


Three Weeks

by demonsweat



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst, Ass-Kicking, Explicit Language, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 35,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsweat/pseuds/demonsweat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine fight with the Foot leads to capture. Will rescue come in time? Three weeks can feel so long ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The TMNT and TMNT universe are copyright Nickelodeon and Viacom Entertainment, based on characters created by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird. This story is non-profit and free to the fans.
> 
> A/N: My first fic, originally published on ff.net in 2009. My writing was a little rougher then, but the story still holds up I think. Enjoy, and thanks for reading.

  


**Prologue**

Three weeks. 

Three long weeks had passed. They hadn’t talked about it of course, but the thought was always clawing at the back of their minds. As they pushed on each night, searching, scouring; hoping that the most likely outcome wasn’t true, pleading with anything or anyone that it wouldn’t be true. _Please don’t let my brothers be dead, oh god please let us get to them in time …_

But so much time had passed. The years had been rife with war and they had delivered hundreds, possibly thousands, of dead Foot soldiers back to their enemy. Not that it made much difference. Like cockroaches, no matter how many were dispatched, they continued to breed as an infestation upon the city. Expendable though they may be, the body of every dead soldier only served to fuel the deep hatred towards their family, an animosity that reached back a generation before.

Incredibly, cutting the head off seemed a small wound to them; even with the Shredder gone, the Foot clan continued to thrive somehow.

It was their one real weakness. Killing Foot after Foot had little effect on their enemy overall. Yet to them, the loss of but one life would unravel everything.

**\----------------------------------**

That night. What had gone so wrong? They’d fought the Foot so many times before, that night shouldn’t have been any different. They were four masters at their craft, little could overwhelm them, nothing could surprise them. Moving fluidly, they swept through each foe without mercy. A katana slices neck, a sai buries itself in an eye. Nunchaku crushes skull, bo staff cracking bone. Like thousands of fights before, nothing was different.

Then she arrived.

Karai had always held a presence among the Foot; powerful and deadly, beautiful and mysterious. Held in the highest regard by Saki himself, she had led the Foot Clan in his absence. Unbeknownst to Saki however, she followed a code of honor outside the oath of her brethren. This had led her to aid the brothers in the past, and it was this tentative allegiance that perhaps allowed them to lower their guard on that night.

She cut a perfect silhouette against the full moon. A moment held breath as she locked eyes with Leonardo; he realized too late what he saw in them.

  


**Chapter 01**

Raphael plodded into the kitchen in his usual callous manner. Resident tank and overall badass of the group, he often acted indifferent to most things around the lair, but he was a pretty intimidating force when he wanted to be. When you needed someone to charge headfirst into an impossible amount of foes, he was your guy. In those adrenaline fueled moments he became like an animal; a slicing, tearing, killing machine. Pain and injury meant nothing to him, which was why his skin bore more scars than any of his brothers. A constant source of mild frustration to Donatello, who always had the task of stitching him back together. Raph knew after a night out with Casey he was sure to face a serious eye-rolling from their house doctor.

And much to Don’s chagrin, he and Casey had been going out a lot lately. It was to be expected. Raph and Leo were on each other’s last nerve and like clockwork, every time a fight broke out between them Raphael ran off to let off some steam. Today wasn’t any different.

“All I’m saying is, your attitude could be a little better.” Leonardo stood in the kitchen, arms crossed in that way he always did when lecturing one of his brothers. 

Donatello and Michelangelo were both seated at the table. Mike was munching loudly on some cereal; Don was reading the paper, drinking tea. They shot each other a tired look: _Here we go again._

“Yeah, I wonder what could be makin’ me so damn negative.” Raphael crossed the room, going to the cupboard and rummaging around for something to eat.

“Maybe you should try to get in at a reasonable hour, get some actual rest before training.” Leo’s brow furrowed. Same old argument.

“Hey, someone’s gotta clean up this shithole city, I don’t see yer ass out there catchin’ bad guys, oh Fearless Leader.” The nickname was one of Raphael’s favorites. He’d always been sore about having to take orders from Leo and his tone now was oozing with bitter sarcasm. 

“That’s because I’m here training, studying … preparing for the next Foot attack. _I_ actually care about this family, _I’m_ doing what Master Splinter taught us to do …”

“Is it lonely up there on yer pedestal, Leo?”

 _Jeez. Can’t even get one cup of tea in peace lately,_ thought Donatello. He looked over at Michelangelo. _Oh, no._ Mikey was getting that look in his eye. He looked down and saw something in Mike’s lap.

Donatello looked at Mike wide-eyed, shaking his head slightly. _Don’t do it Mike, you know what he’s going to do to you …_

But Michelangelo was too far gone. He had that crazed look in his eye and a mischievous smile was turning up one corner of his mouth. Slowly he eased the whoopee cushion onto the chair next to him. 

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You have no respect for me, for this family, for anything!” 

“Right. Like I’m gonna respect ya when ya nag me all the time. Y’know what? You can go fuck yourself, Leo.” Raph sat down in a huff.

_BRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!!!!!!_

There was a split second of silence. Then:

“Bwahahahaha!” Mike actually fell out of his chair laughing.

“Oh, you are DEAD!” Raphael lunged at the younger turtle, chasing after him as Mike scrambled out of the room.

 _Well, got to hand it to him, at least he broke up the argument,_ thought Donatello. _Maybe now I can enjoy the rest of this morning with a little peace and quiet._

The sound of glass smashing came in from the living room. “C’mere ya little runt!” 

“Ah! Ahhh! No! Guys help! He's gonna kill me!” 

Donatello sighed. _Then again, maybe not._

**\----------------------------------**

In his room, Leonardo sat in quiet contemplation. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, listened to his heartbeat. _I must stop this,_ he thought. _There must be a way to get my point across without angering him so much._ A part of him wanted to blame Raphael, to believe that it was entirely his fault, that there was nothing he could do. But it was impossible for him to truly believe that. As the leader he was supposed to be able to deal with anything, especially dissention within the ranks. Maybe it was too late – maybe too much damage had been done, maybe Raphael would always hate him like this. _Have I failed?_ He wondered.

There was no worse feeling to the eldest turtle than failure. He spent all of his time training to be perfect, knowing full well that any slip up could cost the lives of his brothers. A tactical genius, he’d led his brothers to victory time and time again. But Raphael, the one thorn in his side, was constantly defiant; he knew it was only a matter of time before this dissention got one of them killed. It was his job to fix this. Their lives depended on it.

Leonardo stood up and stretched. He’d been feeling a bit cooped up, some fresh air would probably be good for all of them. _Maybe we should do some topside training this week,_ he thought. _It would probably calm Raph down a bit, anyways._ Before doing so, though, it would be prudent to check on their current stash of medical supplies. He’d been meaning to get with Donnie at some point and do a quick inventory. _No time like the present, I guess._ He walked out and headed towards Donatello’s lab.

**\----------------------------------**

After satisfying his need to punch something (in this case, the unfortunate Michelangelo), Raphael also retired to his room. _Stupid Leo,_ he thought. _Why can’t he jus’ leave me the hell alone for two minutes …_

He may have been a powder keg, but none of his brothers would ever question his loyalty. They all knew, Leonardo included, that Raphael’s heart was in the right place. For one, he was always fiercely protective of his brothers. In many fights with the Foot Clan, it was Raphael’s berserker fighting style that turned the tides in their favor. He was just, you know - a pain in the ass to live with sometimes.

But it was getting dangerously out of control and they all knew it. Things had been escalating between him and Leonardo, and the fearless leader had been getting under his skin in just the right way. Accusing Raphael of endangering his family was an excellent way to piss him off, whether that’s what Leo intended to do or not.

 _Mr. "high and mighty" always gotta be better than me. Whatta jerk._ Deciding he didn’t want to think about this anymore, Raphael went downstairs to see if Mike wanted to play some video games instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Donatello was in his lab picking through a mess of medical supplies in the cabinet before him. He felt tired. _Just the caffeine withdrawal,_ he thought, again feeling a pang of regret at his missing vice. But he’d promised Leo he’d give up the coffee drinking after being caught one too many times tinkering around in the lab until the wee hours of the morning. _Hmmm … didn’t complain about it when I finished installing that new security door though,_ he mused, smiling a bit. Calling Donatello brilliant would’ve been an understatement, as he was responsible for every bit of technological or mechanical thing they used. Without him they wouldn’t have the security or nearly any of the comforts they all currently enjoyed. His medical expertise alone was enough to be proud of; in a family full of ninjas, that sort of knowledge was an invaluable resource.

He tried not to let his training suffer for it too much, though Leonardo found himself literally having to drag Donnie away from one of his projects on more than one occasion. To Leo’s dismay it was usually sleep that Don sacrificed, eventually leading to his grudgingly giving up on the coffee habit. Leo didn’t give him too hard of a time though, as he knew that Don couldn’t really help himself. His brain was just _on_ all the time, constantly craving input. If he wasn’t on the computer, he was reading, or tinkering. Besides training it was also difficult to get Don to just take a break and relax, sometimes.

Though he was just as fierce as his brothers in battle, Donatello was the most passive in general personality. Always thoughtful, they knew he was always one to give sound advice. “Well, you guys are actually more alike than either of you realize.” Donatello smiled. He knew Leonardo struggled with this situation; Leo sometimes came to him for one of these talks when it got to be overwhelming. 

“How do you figure that? I swear, it seems like he could care less about us sometimes, he just wants to run off on his own all of the time.” Leonardo absent-mindedly picked up one of the many pieces of junk lying around Donatello’s work space, turning it over in his hands. Referring to it as "junk" however, would certainly get him a long and boring speech on the function and importance of such a piece of hardware.

“C’mon Leo, you know that isn’t true. He cares as much as you do, he just goes about it a different way. Sometimes I think _he_ thinks he’s going to get every criminal out there by himself,” Eye-roll. _Right, going to have to pick up some more bandages,_ he thought, making a note of it on the clipboard he was holding.

“Yeah, exactly – by himself. Why does he feel this need to fight alone? He’s going to get himself killed.” _And it will be all my fault if he does._ Leonardo dropped his eyes to the floor.

Donatello felt for his brother. It was a hard life, they were in constant danger and Leonardo felt responsible for keeping them out of it. He understood the burden Leo must be feeling. He picked through the various pill bottles, checking the dates on them as he spoke. “He’s got a lot of aggression to begin with, it’s not all coming from his interactions with you. But these arguments aren’t helping. He’s stubborn and hates taking orders, you just have to find a way to talk to him without making him feel like you’re talking _down_ to him.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I have to learn to control my own emotions better – he just pushes my buttons and I let him do it. I guess I just feel like he hates me sometimes.”

Donatello chuckled good-naturedly. “Now you know that’s not true. Remember when you got that nasty concussion years ago? Jeez, that was scary, I’d never seen anything like it. You were unconscious for days, we all thought you were going to die.” _Right, more ice packs._ He made another mark on the clipboard. “I don’t know if you ever really knew this, but Raphael never left your side for a second. I thought he was going to keel over from exhaustion.” Donatello put a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder. “Look Leo, we all know how hard you’re trying. Things were kind of tough around here when you were in the Amazon. I think Raph took it the hardest. It’s just going to take some time for him to adjust.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Thanks, Don.” He sighed, a small smile on his lips, but his eyes looked tired. “Hey, you feel like sparring for a bit? I could use a workout right about now. If you’re all done here, that is.”

“Well … I did promise Michelangelo I’d fix his Xbox for the umpteenth time ... but I guess he can occupy himself with something else for the time being. Actually, the longer I take to fix it the better – maybe he’ll treat it a little more carefully next time.” _Not likely though,_ he thought. As if on cue, a crash came in from the living room. With a loud sigh, Donatello grabbed his bo and followed Leonardo into the training room.

**\----------------------------------**

Mike and Raph both sat on the living room couch, game controllers in hand. Both stared intently at the screen, the rivalry between them intensifying with each passing round.

“You’re cheating!”

“I ain’t cheatin’, you're just a lousy player,” Raphael said with an evil grin.

Michelangelo was determined. _Raph always plays Gannondorf,_ he thought. _He’s so cheap!_ It was as intense a battle as any of their real-life ones. Mike prided himself on the ability to wield his controller with the same dexterity as his nunchaku. He spent countless hours in training, with the intent to overcome his greatest adversary, the turtle seated next to him now.

Raphael was really the only one of them that would spar virtually with Mike. Leo would always say he was too busy. _But it’s really ‘cause he sucks,_ Mike thought with a smile. His oldest brother might be great at many things, but video games were not one of them. And Donatello … well, Donnie did play some strategy games on his computer once in a while, but those were boring. _Too much thinking,_ Mike would say. _Who wants to do all that work in a game?_

Michelangelo, in general, didn’t overthink too many things. He was more interested in having a good time, letting his brothers stress out about things. Out of any of them, he definitely had the wildest imagination, as was evident in the amount of junk scattered around his room. He had more games, comic books and toys than all of them combined. Raphael would always say sarcastically that Mikey was the "comic relief" around the lair. _Hey,_ Mike would think, _with your sour puss, somebody’s gotta be._ Though saying so out loud would most certainly get him a pounding from the hotheaded turtle. The youngest of them, he certainly fit into the role of "annoying little brother" often enough. In spite of that, his training didn’t suffer for it. He may have been the most childlike of them at home, but on the battlefield he was lethal. Right now, however, he was taking a pretty severe beating.

“C’mon Raph, I think my controller’s broken!” Michelangelo, furiously tapping buttons, jumped off of the couch and stood up, keeping his hands steady. “Oooh! Oooh! I’m making a comeback! Wooooo! Oh yeah, here I come! In your FACE!”

The match ended and Mike broke into a victory dance. Raph tossed the controller down, shaking his head. “An’ all that with a broken controller, no less. A-mazin’.” 

“I know! It’s like I’m some sort of gaming genius!” Then, in a faux-Japanese accent: “I am ninja … both in real world and virtual one!” He flipped over in a one-handed handstand, imitating his character’s ridiculous "taunt" stance from the game. _“Woo-aaaaah-”_

Raphael landed a light kick to Michelangelo’s arm and the younger turtle lost his balance, falling into the bookshelf. Books, DVDs and other miscellaneous junk came tumbling down on him with a very loud crash. “-aaaahhhh! ... ow.”

They heard a loud sigh from the direction of Donatello’s workroom.

Raphael was smirking. “Some ninja all right. How the rest of us’ll ever live up to your greatness, I’ll never know.” He extended a hand to help the young turtle up. 

“Dude, that was _shella_ weak.” Mike grinned stupidly.

“Ugh,” Raphael groaned at the joke. He hated Mike’s dumb turtle puns, they were so bad. Every time he called his phone a "shell cell," it made Raphael cringe. And if he had to hear Mikey say _what the shell_ one more time, he was going to throttle him. He wondered if Donatello could perform a lobotomy to remove the annoying parts of Mikey’s brain, he’d have to ask him later.


	3. Chapter 3

“What’re ya goin’ soft on me?”

He gave Casey the slightest turn of his head as he said it, and then his attention went forward. The Foot soldiers were making tracks and Raphael didn’t want too much distance to get between them. Hours had passed now since he’d stormed off during the topside training session with his brothers, but he was still feeling pretty pissed. 

Casey, though following behind, argued the point. “I just think maybe we could let it go man. Just feels weird, is all. I mean, we were kickin’ ass an’ all, but they still outnumbered us. Why would they run off all’a the sudden?”

If Raphael heard, he made no indication. The night was cool and there was a slight wind. There are ever so few perfect nights for a fight. There are some times that the weather is just right, _but it’s more than that,_ he thought. The city was loud, full of static, burning with intensity … he could feel it. His senses were on point tonight, every nerve felt like it was on fire. Leo had been on his case for days now and their argument hours earlier tonight had sent him boiling over with rage. No better outlet for that aggression than crushing a few bad guys. Oh yeah, he was feeling it tonight. Those Foot assholes were going to wish they hadn’t screwed with him.

“Raph! ‘ey man! Hold up!” Casey was doing his best, but that damn turtle was too fast. Struggling to keep up, he followed to the next rooftop – and tripped in the process.

“WhaaAAAAAAHHHHH!” 

_Smash! … clunk._ Raphael, who’d been ignoring the human up until now, snapped back, concerned. “Case! You alright?” No answer. Raphael was running back now.

Raphael peered over the side of the roof – two stories up – and saw something moving in the garbage below. _Shit,_ he thought, heading down the fire escape. _Well, he’s movin’, so he must still be alive._ Still, a two story drop could mess someone up pretty bad. He hurried down.

“Hey Case! You alive?” 

_“… uuuuuuhhhhnnnn …”_

“Casey! C’mon man, are ya with me?” The turtle reached into the garbage pile and pulled out an arm. Out came the renegade hockey player, bruised and dazed, but otherwise still together. “Ohhhhh … what the hell just happened …?”

“Your dumb ass just took a two story drop, dipshit.” Relieved but now annoyed, Raphael continued, “Aaaaaand… now those Foot soldiers are miles away. So thanks a lot, sidekick.” He helped Casey to his feet.

“You’re the sidekick,” Casey managed, holding his head with one hand. "Sidekicks are always the goofy green alien-looking guys … us heroes are the rugged manly types. Ugh. Feel like I been hit by a truck.”

“Yeah, well, ya look like it too,” Raphael countered. “An’ for the record, I may be green, but I ain’t goofy or an alien – you must be confusin’ me with Mikey.”

**\----------------------------------**

Back on the roof Raphael was restless. Crouching, he perched on the edge, looking out for any source of excitement. He looked over at Casey, covered in cuts and bruises. It was a goddamn miracle the guy hadn’t broken his neck. _Whatta klutz._

“You look like hell.” Raph smirked.

“Yeah, I feel pretty shitty …” Casey stretched, rubbing a bruise. “But I’m tellin’ ya, it felt like something hit my foot and tripped me up back there.”

“Right. Most likely your other foot.” 

“Naw man, I’m serious. Somebody coulda’ been tailin’ us.” 

“If ya noticed, Casey, the Foot were in front of us, not behind. An’ thanks to yer clubfoot, now they ain’t even that.” Still smirking, Raph went on. “Hmph. Shoulda’ just left ya there and kept goin’.” 

Casey shrugged, smiling and clapping Raphael on the back. “We’ll get ‘em next time, buddy.” Casey stood up. “Ah, I guess I should call it a night. Ape’s already pissed at me for stayin’ out so late all week ... she’s gonna flip when she sees how beat up I look.” Sheepishly, he went on, “So yeah, uh ... if you could not mention to April that I fell offa’ roof tonight? That’d also save me an earful later.”

“Heh. Yeah well, only if you promise not to tell the wife you saw me tonight.” Casey chuckled. "The wife." Guess he and Leo were at it again. Some things never changed. 

“Ah hell, guess I’ll give it up tonight myself,” Raph said, but he knew it was a lie the second it left his lips. The last place he wanted to be was home right now, and he needed to burn off some of this unspent adrenaline he’d worked up earlier. 

“Alright man, I’ll hit ya up tomorrow night or somethin’,” Casey turned and hobbled off towards home. _Yeah right, by the way he’s movin’,_ Raphael thought, _he’s gonna be pretty useless for the next week._ Well, that sucked. It was always better having Casey around when Raph felt like picking a fight. Casey wasn’t nearly as skilled a fighter as his brothers, but he could definitely hold his own. When he wasn’t falling off of a roof, that was.

Raphael sat for a while on the rooftop, listening to the city. He breathed in deep. He closed his eyes, replaying the earlier events of that evening in his head.

**\----------------------------------**

The training session was not going well. Raphael was exhausted and it showed. He knew that he was making mistakes, and what’s worse, he knew that Leo could tell. They raced across the rooftops, following Leonardo to a deserted part of town. Most of the buildings on this side were condemned and had been so for years, so it made a pretty good place to train without the fear of being seen.

Leonardo slowed to a stop, turning then to face the others. As Mike and Don joined him, Leo said, “Let’s break here and do some sparring practice.” 

Raphael was panting more heavily than the others. “What’s the matter, Raph, having trouble keeping up?” Leonardo’s voice sounded stern.

“Can it Leo. I’m just a little tired is all.” 

“Mmm. Can’t imagine why. But hey, I’m sure if the Foot were to show up right now, you could just explain to them that you’re tired. I’m sure they’d take it easy on you.” His arms crossed and his posture changed, entering the "lecture" pose.

“I swear t'god Leo, do not start in with your shit tonight. I ain’t in the mood for this.” 

Leo turned towards the two younger turtles. “Don, Mike – you two go ahead and begin." He pulled out his katanas and crouched into a fighting stance. “You. Come at me.” He narrowed his eyes, looking at Raphael.

With a sardonic grin Raphael armed himself. “Hmph. With pleasure.”

They traded blows for a while. Raphael was keeping up fairly well, but he was still more sluggish than usual. Leo wasn’t about to take it easy on him though, and he knew it.

“Heard you come in last night,” Leo’s katana blocked an oncoming sai. “Or this morning, rather.” Raphael said nothing, catching the butt of Leo’s sword in his side with a grunt. “Well?”

“Guess I was sleepwalkin’.” _Goddamnit, can’t get a moment’s peace,_ he thought.

“Oh, right. So maybe we should start locking your door from the outside every night. I could get Donnie to put the lair on lockdown, you know.” Leo moved in for the kill. “You want to try telling me that it’s not affecting your training _now?”_ He threw his weight towards Raphael, knocking him backwards. 

He saw Raphael stiffen up; yep, that struck a nerve. He knew Raph hated getting shown up in practice, and Leo was being especially hard on him tonight.

“Don wouldn’t _do_ that, and besides, I can be more _persuasive_ than you can,” he growled, thinking about what he’d do to Don if he actually did lock Raph in. “So I’m havin’ a bad day, s’nothin’ to get yerself all worked up about.” 

“Been a lot of ‘bad days’ lately, little brother. Your lack of seriousness in your training is becoming a burden to us. How the hell am I supposed to lead this team when one element constantly defies my orders?”

 _Ha, "little brother"… twist the knife, Mr. high-and-mighty._ He exploded. “Yeah, well Leo - you SUCK at being the leader, and you SUCK as a brother.” His sais clashed against Leo’s katana with a loud _clang._ “Now get outta my fuckin’ FACE!” He pushed Leo back hard, his eyes daring him to return the favor. 

Leonardo, his eyes fixed on Raphael’s, lowered his voice. “Go ahead and get yourself killed if you want then. That’s one thing. Hell, get me killed, if that’s what you really want. But what about your brothers, or Master Splinter? April or Casey? Just try to imagine what it would be like if one of them had to pay for your carelessness.”

Raphael threw his sais to the ground and lunged at Leonardo. Before Leo had time to react, Raph’s fist connected, sending Leo backwards. _Damn … didn’t … didn’t expect him to move so fast …_ Rubbing his jaw, Leo looked up at his brother and their eyes met. Without a word, Raphael turned, scooped up both sais and took off.

“Raphael!” Leo called after him, but he knew Raph wouldn’t stop. Leo didn’t really feel like going after him, either. _Whatever. Let him go off and pout, then._

They didn’t hear from Raphael again until much later that night; little did they all know how that call was going to change their lives forever.

**\----------------------------------**

Remembering, Raphael felt the anger sweep over him all over again. Casey was long gone now and the night was waning. _Friggin’ Leo._ His head hurt from the frustration. _If I was leadin’ this team we’d be seein’ a lot more action, that’s for sure. An’ on that note …_

Raphael stood up. He was tired of thinking about Leo, and he was tired of thinking in general. It was time to get some exercise. He flexed, getting ready to break into a sprint. Suddenly, as he was contemplating which route to take, he caught movement to his right. Before his head had fully turned in that direction, his sais were both out of his belt and firmly grasped in each hand. _Probably just a cat._ His eyes squinted, looking for whatever it was. Not seeing anything right away, he slipped into the shadows, and slowly advanced in that direction.

He reached the area where he thought he’d seen something, but there was nothing there now. _Ah, who’m I kiddin’. Now I’m seein’ things._ Then he saw it. One lone Foot soldier, crouched, unmoving and watching him, further away along the roof. _What the hell?_

“Well, look what we got here. You must be lost or somethin’.” Raphael raised his sais and began running towards the Foot soldier. The Foot immediately took off running in the opposite direction. _Heh, I love it when they run,_ thought Raphael. Just one guy, but it could still be fun. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be a total bust after all. _I almost feel sorry for the guy._ A satisfied grin crept up as he gave chase. _Almost._

Rooftop to rooftop, Raphael pursued. The Foot soldier was fast, but he was steadily gaining on him. Eventually there was no place left to go. The Foot grunt was backed against a brick wall, too high to climb, and no real escape on either side. Raphael stopped, walking slowly towards his prey. Maybe it was the satisfaction of the hunt, of the impending fight to come, that caused him to let his guard down. 

“Nowhere left to run,” he growled sadistically. "Looks like you ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, buddy.” Raphael entered his stance and made ready to strike. That’s when he realized his mistake.

Foot soldiers came pouring over the wall in droves. Raph took a step back and glanced behind him. More were climbing up onto the roof from below. A quick assessment told him around fifty enemies total – he was totally outnumbered. _Of course it was a trap. One Foot soldier, leading me in … I am so fucking stupid._ He just had enough time to hit the panic button before the first wave hit.


	4. Chapter 4

Donatello had engineered an invaluable accessory to all of their cell phones – a "panic button" when, in case of danger, any one of them would be able to signal the others quickly. It caused a loud warning signal to go off on the other three phones, alerting the rest of the group. Also, each phone was equipped with GPS, so finding the person or persons in danger would be a snap. 

All three phones were going off simultaneously now. Mike snorted awake, falling out of bed in the process. “Uuugh … what-" He scrambled, reaching out towards the source of the noise, knocking over several items on the nightstand with a loud _crash._ “Aw jeez … where’s the fire …” Groggy, Mike flipped open the phone.

One word stared back at him – Raphael. _Uh-oh,_ he thought, _guess we all knew this was going to happen eventually._ He was certainly awake now. He grabbed his nunchakus and flew out the door. 

Leo and Don were already there. “I got a fix on him, let’s go,” Don said as he ran, peering into his phone. “He’s not far. We should be able to get there in a few minutes.” 

“Just great. So here it is, exactly what I said was going to happen. He doesn’t listen to reason, and now here we are, having to rescue his stubborn ass. If he’s still alive by the time we get there, that is.” His voice was bitter. Leo was pissed, but the thought of anything happening to Raphael made him feel sick to his stomach. 

“I’m sure he’s alright Leo, Raph can hold up pretty well on his own,” Donatello reassured him. They ripped through the sewers for a little while, before Don slowed his pace. “We’re getting close. Better get topside here.” Don made his way up the ladder to the manhole cover and lead them out. 

“Dude, I’ll bet he just pushed it on accident,” Mike said, as he scrambled up onto the street.

“They’re not designed like that, and you know it. I specifically set that button in a protective rim, so that very thing wouldn’t happen.” Don almost sounded offended by the comment.

“Well, he and Casey are prob’ly just drunk and playing a prank on us,” Mike continued. "He’s gonna get it back pretty hard though. I was fast asleep! And having the most wonderful dream … there were ninjas in it!” 

“Mikey, you’re a ninja. You live with ninjas, you fight ninjas everyday in real life. What would make you so excited about dreaming about ninjas?” Don sighed. “Besides, I don’t think Raph would pull that kind of prank. The panic button is nothing to mess around with, so don’t get any ideas yourself. It’s only to be used when you’re in life-threatening danger, and Raph knows that.” He cringed and looked over at Leo as the last sentence came out. Leo’s face was stone. _Great. Me and my big mouth._

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, after tonight, this recklessness is going to stop. He’s gone too far, putting himself in danger like this, risking all of our lives with his pigheadedness … mark my words, he’s going to regret this night _for a long time to come.”_ Leo clenched his teeth with those last words, he was fuming now. _Yeesh,_ thought Donatello, _I don’t remember the last time I saw Leo this angry. Remind me to avoid the two of them for a couple of days._

“Oh, did I forget to mention that all the ninjas in my dream were … lady ninjas? Oh yeah, that was the best part. They were all jumping around, and they had these huuuge-”

“OKAY Mikey, I don’t think I want to hear any more. Besides, I think we’re here.” Don looked up as he said it. There were sounds of battle coming from the rooftop above them. No doubt about it, then. It was a good sign actually; battle sounds most likely meant that there was still a living turtle up there, helping make all that noise.

“Formations.” Leo gave his orders, leading the way up the fire escape. “My lead, Don, follow after me and head for the right, Mike, you bring up the rear then bear left. Whatever you do, stay close and don’t stray too far. I’ll advance on Raph myself, you guys flank from your positions east and west and move with me.”

**\----------------------------------**

Raphael was taking a lot of hits, but nothing too serious yet. Considering the sheer numbers he was up against, he was actually keeping it together pretty well. He wasn’t stupid though and it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to maintain this for very long. _Well, I ain’t goin’ out without a fight._ He grinned through clenched teeth.

One arm extended and tightly gripping a sai, Raphael flicked his wrist in two short bursts, beckoning the next attack. “Let’s dance.” 

They came. He was getting attacked from all sides. _Hey, if I gotta go out, might as well take a few of the bastards with me._ Leo wouldn’t have been happy about that attitude. He could hear Leo in his head now. _“In an unwinnable situation, you have no other choice. If you ever find yourself overwhelmed, enter a defensive stance and stay in it. Concentrate less on attacking outward and focus your attention more on a means of retreat.”_ Feh. Where was the fun in that? Better to go balls out, die with glory. He sent a Foot soldier flying with a roundhouse kick.

For all of his bravado though, Raphael was still using quite a bit of restraint. He knew what it meant to his family if he got himself killed. He wasn’t about to let them find a corpse when they arrived. A small blade swished by, narrowly missing his bicep. He spun around with a sweeping kick and managed to push the mob back a few feet. _Hm … they better get here soon, though._

He had to get to a more secure position. Fighting his way to the wall, he eventually managed to get his back up against it. _Good, that’ll cut down on the attacks from behind, at least._ He grabbed an enemy and threw him into another. Two more attacks came from his left, another from his right. He dodged and thrust a sai into one of the attackers, twirling around just in time to parry the next attack. An enemy leapt forcefully onto his back in an attempt to bring him down. 

_“Raaaggghh …”_ Raphael growled, hurling the Foot soldier off of him. _Well, I’m certainly gettin’ a workout._ A hard kick got him in the leg and caused him to fumble; to his left a dagger caught him on the arm just above the elbow. He whirled around and locked the dagger with his sai. With one quick twist, he shattered the howling Foot soldier’s wrist. He turned back just in time to leap out of the way of a throwing star. He couldn’t feel the dagger wound yet, but a quick glance told him that it wasn’t bad. Deep, but it didn’t look like it had punctured an artery. Just then, a nunchaku caught him off guard and cracked him in the side of the head. _Arrrgh ... that hurt._ “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one, asshole.” Both sais entered the foot soldier’s stomach. Fluidly, Raphael ripped outwards, spilling guts everywhere.

**\----------------------------------**

Reaching the rooftop, Leo found what he’d pretty much expected. “Sounds like a big group, maybe around thirty or forty guys,” he’d told them on the way up. “Raph’s probably trying to hold them all on his own, or Casey could be with him.” The numbers were a little unnerving … why were there so many Foot soldiers out here? Leonardo’s brain was hardwired to look into their tactics. This was war after all, and understanding the enemy’s strategy was essential to their survival.

He thought on it as the pushed onto the roof. Was Raph ambushed? Could all of them be walking into a trap? Knowing Raphael, he probably stumbled upon some Foot operation and tried to take it down himself. _Getting in over his head as usual._

Raphael looked like he was struggling. Though there was an admirable pile of dead Foot around him, the remaining enemies were giving him a lot of trouble. Raphael’s sais and forearms were stained with blood. He turned and caught a kick to his chest, knocking him off balance. Leonardo broke into a sprint towards his brother, shooting a quick glance left and right to see Mike and Don enter their positions. 

Leo cut a fast path through the middle. He’d moved in so silently, the Foot never had a chance. He made it to where Raphael was standing just in time to block an oncoming katana blade heading for Raph’s neck. He twirled, putting his own back to the wall. 

The relief Raphael felt was absolute. _Here comes the cavalry,_ he thought, as his three brothers came into view. _Man, I’m glad to see you guys._

It was a short lived feeling however, as Leo was by his side in seconds. Though Raphael was glad to see him, he quickly realized that there was another stern lecture coming his way in the near future. 

“Oh, hey Raph, great to see ya. So I suppose you’re now trying to get yourself killed on purpose, just to spite me.” Raph rolled his eyes. _Well, the future sure got here quick._

“I was doin’ just fine without you ... rraaagh!” Raphael threw a Foot soldier backwards against a jagged metal protrusion in the wall, impaling him. “Certainly doin’ fine without your mouth.” The Foot soldier struggled for a moment and then fell limp, still attached to the wall.

“Sure. So fine, in fact, that you needed us to come to the rescue.” Leo’s blades were a hurricane. A foot soldier fell eviscerated to his right, the next unlucky enemy headless a moment later.

“Nah, jus’ thought you guys might enjoy the party. Didn’t want to have all the fun by myself.” He turned, catching a throwing star in his shell. 

“Arrogant, as ever, I see. Well, as usual you don’t care squat about yourself, and we’re here to bail you out. And thanks for putting all your brothers in danger, cleaning up your mess for you.” 

Raphael turned towards Leonardo, fuming. “Oh yeah, REAL danger. These idiots are nothin’ an’ you know it.” Raphael cracked one in the face, still looking at Leo, as if to prove his point. It was true that there were now only half the number of Foot soldiers standing than when Leo, Mike and Don had arrived. As a full team, they’d made pretty quick work of the mob. “B’sides, _they_ jumped _me._ It’s not like I went knockin’ on their door, sayin’ come out an’ play.” He decided he’d leave out the part about following the lone Foot soldier and walking into a trap. Leo didn’t need to know that little fact.

 _So he_ was _ambushed then,_ thought Leo. Something didn’t feel right about this. _Better stay on our toes,_ he thought.

“So when you go out alone all the time, I suppose it’s just coincidence that you come home all beat up. You seem to ‘get jumped’ an awful lot.” _Stubborn ass._ Same old argument, he was never going to change. Leo poured his frustration into his next victim, spraying the pavement with a fresh coat of red.

“Yeah well, screw you. Ya don't havta' believe me, I really don’t care. As a matter a FACT-”

“Raph, shut up.” Leo cocked his head. Reinforcements. _Damn!_

Raphael opened his mouth to say more and then closed it. Now they were in sight. Dozens of Foot soldiers, pouring in from the adjacent rooftops on either side. More were climbing up from the street. 

“Mike, Don! To us!” Leonardo looked at his two brothers on the other side of the mob, and realized that it was too late. The Foot were pushing them back. _Dammit, if I hadn’t been arguing with Raph, I would’ve sensed them coming sooner,_ he berated himself. While he and Raph had the advantage of fighting as a duo, his other two brothers did not have that luxury. Mike and Don were not only separated from each other, but the onslaught of new Foot soldiers was now widening the gap between them and the two eldest turtles as well. This was going to make it nearly impossible for them to fall into formation together, and of course they were much stronger as a foursome. _Damn._ Leo gritted his teeth and prepared for the next attack.


	5. Chapter 5

Three weeks.

Raphael was looking at himself in the mirror. _It’s all my fault. Leo was right, I fucked up and now …_ It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It should’ve been him, it just wasn’t right. 

He had run the scenario in his mind before; they all had, of course. Living the sort of lives that they did, it was bound to have crossed their minds at some point. But he’d never been prepared for this, always envisioning that it would be himself dead or captured, not the other way around. _I never shoulda’ called for ‘em. I didn’t know._ It wasn’t that many Foot, after all. He just figured they’d be able to wipe them out like they always did. 

Dragging himself into the kitchen, he couldn’t remember ever being so tired. The weeks had crawled by, every day and night searching, searching … every day he felt on the brink of collapse, but still managed to keep going somehow. He and Leo hardly ever spoke a word. What words were there to say? Both knew the other’s mind. But they were getting nowhere – no leads, nothing. So much time had passed, they were going to be too late, where were they … _WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY…_

He threw the table over, dishes smashing to the floor. He swept everything off the counter, smashing the coffee pot against the wall, glass flying everywhere. Grabbing the chair, he smashed it against the floor until it exploded into a thousand pieces. He couldn’t stop. Grabbing a cupboard door, he ripped it clean off of its hinges, throwing it against the wall. Screaming in rage, he pounded his fists through the wall, oblivious of the blood pouring down his hands. As he came to, he was aware that someone had been yelling, that hands were grabbing him. He collapsed on the floor.

“Raph, stop!” He looked up. Leo’s eyes were so hollow, so defeated. The fearless leader was afraid.

“Why them, Leo? Donnie can’t even kill, and Mikey … Mikey …” he broke down. Leo knew what he was getting at and though the same thing ate away at him, it broke his heart to hear Raph say it. Donatello, shy, quiet and intelligent; Michelangelo the playful goofball … it just wasn’t right. Better it were him or Raphael in their places. Leo couldn’t remember ever seeing Raphael sob like this, not since they were little. 

“I’m sorry Raph … I’m so sorry …”

**\----------------------------------**

The hardest part for Leo was breaking the news to Master Splinter. He and Raphael had gone into the old rat’s room together.

_“Master.” Leo’s voice was grave, his body language undeniable. Something bad had happened._

_Splinter opened his eyes and only saw two sons before him. “My sons, what is wrong?”_

He could still see the pained expression on his father’s face. It was too much to bear. _I’m sorry father, it was all my fault,_ he heard his own words in his head, haunting him now. _I couldn’t protect them._

Raphael had been right. Some leader he was. He’d let his anger at Raph cloud his judgment and now who knew what horrors his two brothers were suffering for it, if they were even still alive. It had been three weeks now since his brothers were lost and they were no closer to finding them.

Leonardo tried to clear his mind. _Have to try and reach them, need some clue to where they might be,_ he thought. He had to keep reaching out, searching with his mind. He should’ve been using this brief time at home to get some sleep; him and Raphael had been topside nearly constantly, looking for anything that might lead them to their missing brothers. 

When he wasn’t out patrolling the city with his remaining brother, he spent nearly every waking minute in his room, in this same position. His body was sore and tired, his mind even more so. _But it doesn’t matter. Have to ignore it. Have to keep trying._

His breathing rhythmic, his body still, Leonardo looked like a statue. His mind, body and soul, all connected; all had become water: fluid, calm, flowing. He could feel his heart beating, his chest expanding with each deep breath, the blood moving through his veins. He focused all of his energy outwards towards the two missing turtles.

Something. A sound. 

Far away, it sounded like yelling. He pushed, straining to keep his concentration. The sound was getting louder. An odd sensation began to creep over Leonardo. An image started to form, someone in white, bent over the top of him. And pain. Oh god, so much pain … so much fear. It hit him so fast, he was completely unprepared for it, yet somehow managed to hold onto the image. Leo felt as if his heart was going to burst in his chest. The yelling was tortured screaming now, his head was exploding with the sound. 

Michelangelo was screaming. It was the worst thing Leonardo had ever heard in his life. Only one thought was present, though he didn’t know if it was his own or not: _Please make it stop._

His eyes snapped open, he was gasping for breath. He could still hear the echoes of Mike’s wailing reverberating in his brain. As he sat panting, silent tears fell down the eldest turtle’s cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

Raphael sat on the rooftop. The moon shone ominously through a cloud canopy above. A light breeze brought the smells of the city. When Leo had first suggested they come here, he’d only protested a little; it still felt like a waste of time, but he just didn’t have it in him to argue. Besides, their efforts so far had been fruitless, three goddamn weeks were gone and still no sign of his missing brothers. At this point, he was willing to try anything.

He felt dangerously calm. His senses were sharp. He was ready. 

He closed his eyes and remembered. 

As the image of the fight bled into view, his other senses became acute. Soon he could hear the sounds of battle, smell the blood. Reliving it in its entirety, this ethereal state allowed him more awareness; during the actual fight he’d been too distracted to see everything. Regardless, he thought he already knew when things began to go south.

Seeing it again now only reinforced his opinion – no doubt about it, it was those damned naginata warriors that had fucked everything up.

**\----------------------------------**

The new wave of Foot soldiers were keeping them all pretty busy, but the battle was still looking in their favor. Raphael heard Leo shout _"We got company!"_ and turned just in time to see them run in the direction of Mike and Don. Two lithe warriors, armed with long-bladed staves. They were heavily armored. _Better get over there and give ‘em a hand,_ Raphael thought.

Donatello, being one wielding a primarily non-lethal weapon (and doing so in his usual non-lethal way), was making excellent use of it nonetheless. Like a green ballerina, he twirled and leaped effortlessly, the bo a perfect extension of his body. Bones crunched and smashed, as living but fully incapacitated Foot soldiers lay writhing in agony around him. Though always careful to use a certain amount of restraint, he was usually able to take down his foes quickly without using lethal force. He glanced over at Michelangelo, who seemed to be faring just as well. Leo and Raph were farther away, but they were also doing fine as far as he could tell. 

“Mike! Don! You guys alright over there?” Leo shouted out.

“Dude, couldn’t be better!” Mike carelessly tossed a screaming Foot soldier off of the roof.

But that was about to change. Mike saw the two elite warriors leap onto the roof, more foot grunts following behind them. They were carrying _naginatas,_ long staves similar to Donatello’s bo, only these were topped with sharp blades. _Nice,_ he thought, grinning wide. _This should be fun._ So far the grunts hadn’t put up too much of a challenge, it would be nice to get a real workout. One of these warriors moved in to engage Mike in combat.

The naginata warrior wasted no time. The blade swept closely over his head as Michelangelo ducked and rolled to one side, throwing out a kick but missing. The warrior twirled around and swept the weapon around again, narrowly missing Michelangelo by a hair. _Whew, that was close._ He barely had time to defend against the next swipe. _So fast! Okay, so, gonna have to get a little more serious here …_

Donatello was still swarmed with several Foot when the naginata arrived. One of the warriors approached him slowly, calculatingly. After pushing back several grunts, Don took a tentative step backwards and entered a defensive stance. The armor and weapons on these newcomers were of a superior craftsmanship; not something that would be wasted on any run-of-the-mill Foot soldier. _He’s obviously more skilled than the others … better not let my guard down._

But there wasn’t time to think beyond that. Like lightning the naginata warrior flew at him, barely giving him time to sidestep the blade. Surprised, but seeing an opportunity, Donatello moved in for an attack. Just as his bo staff was about to connect, something struck the back of his shell. Instinctively, he rolled and looked up to see more Foot soldiers coming from behind. Changing positions, he dodged another throwing star coming from the direction of the grunts. They were moving in. _Uh-oh, not good._

The naginata brought the polearm down fast. Donatello blocked in the nick of time, landing a solid kick to his enemy’s knee. But it did little to sway the warrior, to his dismay. Though the warrior’s face was mostly obscured by a mask, Donatello looked into his enemy’s eyes. A flurry of attacks shot out towards him; it took Don’s full attention to evade each one. He could feel the newest wave of grunts closing in behind him, but the intensity of this new warrior was making it impossible to turn his attention towards any other foe. 

He knew he was in trouble.

Before he could call out to his brothers for aid, Donatello was hit from behind. The kick knocked him off balance and he fell to the ground. Without hesitation, the blade of the pole arm buried itself deep into his shoulder.

He screamed, more a sound of shock than pain. The other three turtles whirled around to the direction of his voice, fear gripping all three. 

“Donatello!” Leo shouted. He exchanged a look with Raphael. “Hold on Don, we’re coming!”


	7. Chapter 7

Leo sat down on the roof cross-legged, facing Raphael. Sitting here at the scene of that fateful battle itself, he’d hoped this last ditch attempt to gather clues would yield something, anything. 

He’d insisted that they combine their efforts mentally; revisiting the scene in a paired meditative state might just reveal something unnoticed before. It wasn’t much, but at this point they were out of options. 

Raph looked worn out, older. _I’m probably not too pretty-looking myself,_ he thought. So many days of searching, looking for anything … so many questions. Why were they taken? They had received no word, no threats. And why stop with Mike and Don? There had been no attempt on the part of the Foot to take down either of the eldest turtles in the recent weeks. He and Raph had been topside nearly every hour since that night, giving the Foot plenty of opportunity for another ambush. 

They’d searched the city for any possible clues but there was nothing. Master Splinter had been meditating for days, also without much luck. Their sensei had said that he did think they were both still alive, so some small relief there. Leo had touched Michelangelo the day before so there was good chance he was still alive, despite the state his mind was in. Leo shivered at the memory.

Leonardo looked out over the scene. He remembered how Raphael looked, picking up their cast-off weapons, clutching Mike’s nunchakus and Don’s bo, chest heaving, teeth clenched, shaking with rage. _They’re gonna pay for this, Leo,_ he’d said. _I swear I’m gonna destroy every last one ‘a them cowards._ If ever Leo was capable of feeling the intense rage he often saw in his volatile brother, it was now. For once, he agreed completely with him – when they did get a hold of the ones responsible for this, there would be hell to pay.

The remaining two brothers sat motionless on the rooftop. Raphael was already deep in a trance. 

Leonardo closed his eyes and thought again of Michelangelo’s screams. _Oh Mike … Don… we’ll find you guys. We’re coming, I promise._ He shuddered and lowered his head.

Leonardo cleared his mind and entered meditation alongside his brother.

**\----------------------------------**

Leo could see now, of course, how obvious their strategy was. He should’ve been able to realize right away that the four of them were being separated on purpose. _So stupid._ So much for all of his training, and now his failure resulted in the worst possible outcome. If he had just trusted his instincts, he knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning. They didn’t usually encounter so many Foot at once, but by the time he realized that they were in trouble, it was too late.

She was standing on the next roof over, observing, an elite guard standing on either side of her. Donatello’s pained cry had sent his mind reeling, yet in that moment he noticed her there. _Karai! How long has she been here?_ Her presence here showed that the Foot meant business. Suddenly he realized what a fool he’d been. How quickly an ordinary fight with a few Foot soldiers had erupted into complete chaos.

They were everywhere now. Foot soldiers filled the rooftop, and Leonardo and Raphael did everything they could to hold them back. Leo looked over at Raphael and saw that he was gone. Instead, a crazed maniac had taken his place. Raw, berserker rage literally flowed from Raphael. He was splattered with the blood of his enemies, his green skin slick from head to toe. 

“Yeeeaarrghh!” He yelled, “Get outta my way, dammit!” _Son’sa bitches … if they’ve hurt Donnie …_ Raphael fought with everything he had. He was a powerhouse, ripping through flesh with fervor, determined to get to Donatello no matter what.

Michelangelo turned what attention he could afford towards Donatello when he heard the yell. Don was on the ground, clutching his shoulder and struggling to get up. Blood was pouring from the wound. Shocked at the sight, Mike let his guard down only slightly. It was just enough for the naginata warrior to break in, thrusting the blade towards him with finesse. Mike barely realized in time, as the blade nicked the side of his neck. Instinctively, he put a hand up and felt a small trickle of blood. “Nice try, but that’s only a … scratch? Hey, get back here!” Before he could finish, the naginata warrior had turned and fled in the direction of Donatello. _Shit! He’s going after Donnie!_ Knocking back a few more grunts, Mike took off in hot pursuit.

Donatello stood up, breathing heavily. He looked into his attacker’s eyes. “Bastard,” he breathed. His arm was all but useless now. This was bad. Nevertheless, he raised his bo in readiness for the next attack.

He could see Michelangelo coming up to his left. Unfortunately, so was another of those elite warriors. Donatello steeled himself and cleared his mind. _Remember your training,_ he thought. _Ignore your wounds until the battle is won, there will be time for pain later._ As he looked on, the approaching naginata warrior signaled to his cohort and they both turned in unison on Michelangelo. Surprised, Donatello barely had time to react to the wave of Foot grunts that now hurled themselves at him from all sides. 

Don tried in vain to keep using his aching left arm, the bo staff becoming harder and harder to wield with each passing minute. He was starting to feel unnaturally tired. _Didn’t think I’d lost that much blood,_ he thought. _Getting harder … to think straight._ He felt lightheaded. _I’m not gonna last much longer._

Michelangelo entered a mid-level stance and looked at the two naginata warriors. “Oh, so I guess the other dudes weren’t enough for ya, you guys came looking for a real challenge.” Smiling, he twirled both nunchakus menacingly. They attacked, but he was ready. _They’re good,_ Mike thought, _can’t land a hit on ‘em. Wonder why we’ve never seen guys like them before?_ As he blocked another swipe of the Foot warrior’s ferocious blade-tipped staff, he managed to get a look at Donatello. Don was fumbling badly. _Shit! Don’s in real trouble!_ Suddenly, all of Michelangelo’s confidence left him. He felt an intense fear sweep over him. He attacked his two enemies with new seriousness.

“Leo! Raph! GUYS, I THINK DON REALLY NEEDS HELP!” His tone of voice conveyed everything they needed to know. Donatello was going to be killed if they didn’t get to him immediately. 

Leo and Raph’s eyes met again. “Don? Mike! Hold on, we’re coming!” Leo’s heart sank. Mike sounded terrified. They had to get over there _now._

A bestial scream erupted from Raphael. They were making progress, but there were still plenty of Foot to get through. He and Leo had made it closer to where Michelangelo was standing, but he still couldn’t get a clear view of Donatello. It looked like Mike was trying to fend off both of those weirdos with the long sticks all by himself. Raph slid his sai into a ribcage, using his foot to remove the dying Foot soldier. His arm swung outwards, catching another in the throat. 

Mike was slowing down. _Jeez, a little early to be feeling this tired,_ he thought. The battle was pretty intense and all, but he should’ve had more stamina than this. _Prob’ly overdid it in training._ He swung out of the way of another attack and got a nunchaku around his enemy’s pole arm, disarming him. As the naginata warrior moved to retrieve the weapon, Mike went in for the kill. A moment later the so-called ‘elite’ warrior was crumpled on the ground with a caved in skull. “’Bout time,” he said, grinning madly at the remaining enemy. “Your turn.” The bladed staff came at him again, and Michelangelo twirled out of the way. _Whoa. What the hell’s going on?_ He suddenly felt dizzy, and fell to one knee. Something wasn’t right.

“Guys? I don’t feel so good …” Raphael was pretty close to Mike now and heard him clearly. He could see that Mike was down on one knee and he looked pale. A second later Michelangelo bent over and vomited.

“Mikey?” He looked pleadingly at Leonardo, but only saw the same desperation mirrored back. Leo too, was now doused in blood, still fighting off swarms of Foot soldiers. _Can’t see Don … what the fuck is happening to Mike? He was just fine a minute ago!_ Furious, Raphael decided he was not going to watch two of his brothers die today.

“Goddamnit Leo!” He flicked his wrist, snapping his sai clean of the warm guts wrapped around the blade. Blood gushed from a newly opened hole in the Foot soldier that lay dying at Raph’s feet.

“Stay _focused,_ Raph,” A steel claw nearly opened up Raphael’s arm as Leo said this. Leonardo shifted his gaze towards the two younger brothers. Mike had one arm up in defense, the other was being used to prop himself up. He was on both knees now, a pool of vomit next to him. He was swaying and he looked exhausted. That’s when Leo saw Donatello.

Don had fought strong and hard. Even wounded with the very limited use of one arm, he’d still managed to wield his bo with a precision only a true master could achieve. Foot soldiers still fell to him, but his progress slowed. Eventually, with life slowly draining from him, he could no longer hold himself up.

Donatello, exhausted, wounded, sick and standing in a pool of his own blood, fell to his knees. He tilted his chin up, wanting to face his death without fear. _I’m sorry, my brothers, I have failed you._ He could feel tears wanting to well up, but would not allow them. _I will die like a warrior._ A Foot ninja carrying a katana blade advanced on him. 

Leonardo saw him kneel. “Donatello!” He’d never make it to him in time. Suddenly a whistle sounded from above them, and the Foot changed formation, with most of the attackers now heading towards Mike and Don. “Raph! Move in! Follow me!”

Raphael fell in behind Leonardo perfectly, the two brothers slicing their way towards the younger turtles. They had thinned out the mob enough to make it to Mike’s position at least. Raphael engaged the naginata warrior, taking his attention off of Mike. “Mikey! You all right?”

“Sure … feel … great,” Michelangelo, now hunched over on both hands and knees, was breathing hard. The world was swimming.

“Leo?” Raphael was frantic. “What the hell’s the matter with him?”

“I don’t know Raph, but I’d be careful not to let that blade nick you.” Leo swung up, slicing an arm off at the shoulder joint, creating a fantastic shower of blood. He sided up to Raphael, shifting his main focus to the naginata warrior alongside his brother.

_Fucking cowards,_ Raphael thought as he lunged at the elite, trapping the staff with his sais. Without missing the opportunity, Leo drove both katanas home, nearly slicing the foe in two.

“Uhhnn … guys … get Don …” Gasping for breath between words, Michelangelo hit the ground hard, his nunchakus clattering onto the rooftop. 

_“Mikey!”_

Karai let loose another whistle. The Foot changed formation again, now focusing nearly every soldier left standing on Raph and Leo. Mike’s body was being dragged off by a couple of Foot soldiers, and they now noticed that Donatello was nowhere to be seen.

“Dammit!” Leo knew they had to cut them off before it was too late. “Raph! Time to go!”

Leo turned and retreated over the side of the roof onto the nearby fire escape. Raphael followed a second later, both leaping towards the street as fast as possible. At last they reached the bottom and bolted around the side of the building. They were just in time to see a graffiti-covered van with Foot soldiers swarming around the back, shutting the doors. The van peeled out down the alley.

“C’mon!” Leonardo took off in pursuit, Raphael close on his heels. They followed for a few blocks, but the vehicle was gaining on them. Leo pulled out his cell and flipped on the GPS to track the two missing brothers’ phones. 

“This way!” He said, turning right. At least it looked like they weren’t wasting their time, both signals were coming from inside the van, but they were moving fast.

They had all but forgotten the remaining Foot soldiers left behind. Though their numbers had been drastically diminished in the battle, there was still a small army left. As they turned down the next street, the remaining soldiers were waiting for them. _Flanked us,_ thought Leonardo. _Should’ve seen that coming._ He stored the cell and unsheathed his katanas. There was no hope of catching up to the van now. He could only pray that the tracking signal would hold out a little longer. But by the time they’d finished off the last enemy, the signal was dead, along with the hope of finding where their missing brothers had been taken.

**\----------------------------------**

Leonardo’s eyes snapped open. They’d started that night by knocking around a few Foot soldiers and it had turned into all-out war. He and Raphael, their meditation now broken, both sat still and stared at each other. So much more was clear now. It had been an elaborate trap from the start. They used Raphael to draw out the rest of the turtles, no doubt intending to bring all four of them down. The Foot had been prepared, perhaps even counting on the fact that Raph would call for backup, and the turtles played right into their hands. _An’ if I hadn’t called,_ thought Raphael, _they woulda’ just captured me alone. Stupid._

In his meditation, Leo had noticed the small cut on Mike’s neck; it was obvious now that his assumption had been correct. They’d used poison-tipped blades to turn the tables on them. But that wasn’t the only thing he noticed.

“The graffiti on the van, I saw it. It’s a symbol used by the Eastside Killers. Their turf is in East Harlem, near the waterfront.” A bit of hope filled Leo as he said it. It wasn’t much, but finally they had something to go on.

“That’s enough f’me,” Raph stood up, hand on the butt of his sai. “What’re we waitin’ for.”


	8. Chapter 8

Cold. That was the first sensation. Then: pain. 

Donatello opened his eyes to a blinding light, wincing and shutting them again. As he blinked he tried to sit up but found he couldn’t. Confusion now. _What’s going on-_

_Oh._

He understood immediately. He was the smart one after all, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened, even if his memory was a little fuzzy at the moment. This place didn’t look like the sewers or April’s place, so that only left one other explanation, really. But how exactly ... _oh. Oh yeah, pain._ His eyesight coming into better focus now, he turned towards his left shoulder. _Ugh, pretty nasty wound there, he thought. Looks like … it’s been cauterized?_ The wound was deep, but was no longer bleeding. Looking at it made his stomach turn.

He felt nauseous and his head was pounding. _Must have lost some blood, then,_ he thought. _Ugh … feels like I probably took a pretty good blow to the head, too._ He moved around a bit. Arms and legs locked down, it confirmed his earlier thought. _I’ve been captured. But how?_

He tried to remember but it was difficult. They were fighting the Foot … that’s right, Raph had gotten into some trouble. He and Mike and Leo had come to the rescue. 

Raph, Mike and Leo! What if they were here too? The fear caught in his throat. Were his brothers alright? He began thinking about where he was… no doubt their enemies had him (them?) locked away somewhere. He wasn’t dead yet, so what was it to be then? Torture? Experimentation? _Please,_ he thought, _if they’re out there … please let them find me soon._

**\----------------------------------**

Michelangelo woke up. He went to roll over, but something was in the way. He was … stuck somehow? His brain was too hazy with sleep to make complete sense of it. His first thought was that Raphael had pulled some prank, Saran wrapped him to his bed or something. An image occurred: a devious looking Raphael, ready to get him while he lay defenseless in bed. Mike’s eyes snapped open.

 _Huh, that’s weird … this doesn’t look like my room._ Okay, what was going on? He looked down and saw that he was-

_Oh. Shit._

-shackled to the table. Realization slammed into him. _Oh crap, they got me._ They all knew that this was an ever present danger. In addition to the risk of death or injury, becoming a POW was also always a concern in their line of business. In the little amount of thought he’d afforded himself on it though, Michelangelo always imagined that he’d be more on the rescue _-er_ side, and less on the rescue _-ee_ one. _S’funny, we always thought it’d be Raphael that got nailed._

He couldn’t remember what happened. There was a fight of some sort … against the Foot, he thought. It was pretty vague. He didn’t know what had happened to the others. _What if they got the other guys too?_ It was a pretty unsettling thought. _Gotta get out of here._ He struggled hard against the restraints, using every bit of strength to try and break free. The shackles held fast. _Great. What now?_

He looked around the room. It was dim, dirty, but still held that clinical feel of a doctor’s office (at least it seemed like Donnie’s med lab, the only "doctor’s office" Mike had actually been in). He was strapped down with his back against a flat metal table, pretty uncomfortable really, given his huge shell. Somehow Mike didn’t think the people who brought him here were all that interested in his comfort, though. A shiver crept up his spine.

There were no windows and the room smelled stagnant; a slightly rotten smell, like spoiled meat. That thought sent Mike reeling and he thought he was going to vomit _(again? Did … did I puke earlier?)_ but the feeling passed. He was scared. He didn’t know where he was, where his brothers were, or what was going to happen. He took a deep breath and shuddered. “Alright Mikey, just relax,” he told himself aloud, “your brothers are probably on their way here right now.” If they weren’t strapped down in one of the rooms next to him, that was. If they weren’t dead.

His brothers, dead. With that thought an image came to him – Donnie, broken, bleeding and surrounded by Foot. It was just a quick flash of memory, but it slammed into him like a truck. _Don! Is Donnie all right?_ Panic was setting in. Michelangelo squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to remember anything. _No, this can’t be happening … my brothers will come for me._ He was shivering all over now.

**\----------------------------------**

_“It is not enough to just kill you,” she said, as another shock ripped through Donatello’s body, “you must pay for your crimes against the Foot. When we dump your corpses in the sewers, your sensei will see your broken bodies - he will know that you suffered greatly before your demise.”_

_She continued. “It is fitting that your family suffer such a loss, though it will never compare to the blow that the Foot Clan was dealt when our Master fell. Once they see our ‘message,’ your remaining friends will understand our power.” She leaned in close. “Perhaps it will even stir the old rat out of his hole as well.” Her voice was poison. “Then, my dear enemy, our revenge will be complete. With your presence gone, the Foot will rise once more; nothing will stop us from declaring war on this entire city.”_

Karai had been vague, but Donatello thought that her use of the word "friends" might be masking the fact that some of his "family" might also still be safe. There was no doubt that she enjoyed his suffering, but during this particular session she’d asked him to reveal the whereabouts of their lair. He would’ve liked to think that it meant at least one of his other brothers had avoided capture, but in all likelihood he suspected the Foot were just as interested in getting their hands on Master Splinter. Revealing the location of their home would deliver the Foot Clan’s greatest enemy right into their hands, the rat disciple of Hamato Yoshi. _I won’t tell them, no matter what they do._ Terrified though he was, he was still a warrior. _I won’t fail my family._

Nevertheless, Donatello was filled with despair. It had been days since he’d arrived here, and the shock treatments had begun almost immediately. The burns on his body from the electrodes were oozing with pus now. He glanced at his bloody, mangled shoulder. His entire left arm was burning.

“It is pleasurable enough to watch you suffer, we have no intention of making this quick. You will tell us what we want to know eventually. We have many … other methods … you have yet to see.” She drove a dagger into the wound in Donatello’s shoulder, twisting the blade around and playing with it as she spoke.

Donatello winced with the memory. He could only imagine what they had in store for him. Where were his brothers? Were they enduring the same treatment? Donatello cleared his mind and entered meditation. It was all he could do in between the torture sessions, to help keep his mind together. _So tired._ He sighed. _Just. Want. To. Sleep._

**\----------------------------------**

Michelangelo jumped a little as the door to his room opened briskly. In walked a man dressed in white scrubs, holding a tray. He had a surgeon’s mask on and Mike was unable to see his face.

The man laid the tray down on a counter and fiddled around with it. Mike was feeling nervous. Dammit, he hated needles. But aside from the whole giant-sharp-piece-of-metal-sticking-into-you thing, he was actually more afraid of what might be inside the little vial attached to it. To say that Michelangelo’s imagination was constantly running wild would be an understatement. Thoughts of bio-weaponry, alien species of bacteria, mutagenic ooze … pretty much every comic book he’d ever read was coming back to haunt him now. 

_Okay, don’t panic … hey, this could be a good thing._ Once, during a rather intense practice session, he’d snapped his femur clean through. Donnie had to set it without local anesthesia, but he did have a store of morphine on hand. Mike didn’t remember too much about what happened afterwards, only that everyone kept laughing a lot around him and he had a pretty good time overall. Even though he was never really fond of needles, after that situation he always felt a little better about them. 

The man turned around. Without a word, he promptly stuck the needle in Mike’s arm.

“Jeez! Give a guy a little head’s up!” 

The man said nothing. Mike stole a glance at the thing in his arm. _Huh, just drawing blood, then._ Well, that was a relief. No weird alien bacteria being tested on him after all.

The man finished drawing blood and went back to his tray, fiddling around some more. _Whew, glad that’s over,_ thought Mike. _Wonder what happens now?_

“Hey, uh, sooooo … are you guys gonna tell me why I’m here, or what’s going on? Maybe your boss wants to come in an’ lay out his master plan ‘cause, y’know, I’m all lyin’ here defenseless …” he trailed off.

The man turned around, holding a new needle. Michelangelo could see that this one had a liquid inside of it.

“Well, it’s what they always do in the movies anyways … of course, then the good guy always makes a comeback after that.” His eyes widened, fixated on the needle coming closer. “Heh … g-guess you guys must’ve seen that one …” He finished the sentence shakily.

He tensed as the needle dug flesh. The liquid burned as it entered his vein. Almost immediately, his heart started pounding and he broke out into a cold sweat.

“Dude, what is this!” His body was suddenly on fire. He gasped, drawing in breath and paused a moment. What followed was the most blood-curdling scream that had ever erupted from the turtle’s lips. Every vein, every artery boiled with hot flame. His back arched, every muscle tense, every nerve in sheer agony. He could do nothing but scream.


	9. Chapter 9

Raph and Leo skirted the rooftops, heading towards their only lead. It would be a long night ahead of them and there was a lot of ground to cover.

They reached a building deep inside the gang’s turf, and Leo slowed to a stop. Catching his breath, he looked outwards, contemplating their next move. Raph came up beside him. 

“Raphael.” Leo said his brother’s name in a low, serious tone. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Raphael turned and looked squarely at his brother. Leo’s tone made him feel nervous. “What is it?”

“Yesterday I meditated, I tried to reach Mike and Don ...” He swallowed hard. 

Raphael took a step towards Leo and asked again. “What is it, Leo? What did you see?”

“I got a fix on Mike, he was alive. But Raph, he … he …” Leo was shaking uncontrollably, grasping at the words. He swallowed again. “He was in pain. It was _unbearable …”_

Raphael’s heart sank. Of course they were being tortured mercilessly … he wouldn’t expect any less from the bastards. If they had wanted them dead, they would’ve just ended it during the battle. Mike was still alive though, and that’s what they had to focus on. They still had time to get to him. 

He placed a hand on either one of Leo’s shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. “Leo.” Afraid of what the answer might be, he pressed on with the question. “Did you see Donnie?” 

Leonardo just shook his head, dropping his eyes to his feet. No contact didn’t mean that Donnie _wasn’t_ still alive, but considering the shape he was in when they last saw him, it just reinforced the fear even more. He’d had that dream but … well, it was just a dream, it was nothing.

Leo thought back. They’d all heard Don yell, there was no doubt he’d suffered a serious injury. In the few short glimpses he’d caught of his genius brother, Leo had noticed a fair amount of blood running down one side of his body. But it was his last memory of Don that haunted him. He’d seen the purple-banded turtle on his knees, laying down his weapon in defeat. _His head was held high,_ thought Leonardo, _he wanted to die with honor._

The memory filled him pride and deep sorrow. Donatello was easily the most docile and mild-mannered one of the group. Donnie the thinker, the genius … the guy who’d rather stick his nose in a book than engage in violence. Though his skills were easily on par with the rest of them, Don didn’t live for training quite like the rest of them did. And yet there he was, every bit the true blooded warrior, facing his death without fear. _Good for you, Donnie,_ he thought, _you never gave them the satisfaction._ Leonardo missed his brother so bad it hurt.

Starting to feel choked up himself, Raphael swallowed it and turned to steel. This didn’t change anything. They still had work to do. “C’mon,” he spoke to Leonardo gently. “We’re gonna find ‘em, Leo. Won’t stop until we do.”

Leonardo took a deep breath and nodded. They pressed on.

**\----------------------------------**

It was forty-eight hours later before Michelangelo returned. At first, the pain was too intense; many, many hours passed before a rational thought could even enter his mind. As sanity slowly returned, he immediately entered meditation as soon as he was able to do so. It was a defense against the pain, to lock his mind away from it. It was a trick they all knew, but until now he’d never really had to put it to use. Forty-eight long hours later, the drug had run its course and he was finally free.

Mike slipped back out of his meditative state and opened his eyes. 

“Holy shit.” He sighed long. He sat up, slowly. He was lying on the floor of a small room, one door, no windows. He was no longer shackled. There was a bucket of water in the corner.

Michelangelo dragged himself over to the bucket and drank. Filthy though the water was, it tasted as sweet as anything he’d ever had. Thoroughly exhausted, he slumped on the floor, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

**\----------------------------------**

Mike awoke sometime later to hands grabbing him, lifting him up. Instinctively he tried to struggle free, but the strength had been drained from him. _Ugh … feel so … so dizzy ..._ He was lifted off the floor too fast, and he lurched forward, retching. One of the guards delivered a swift kick to his stomach, knocking him back onto the floor. He lay there on his side clutching his midsection, coughing and gasping for breath. The guards were laughing.

A grunt came from one of the Foot soldiers. The laughter stopped and once more they resumed lifting Michelangelo. He was roughly pulled to his feet and half-dragged, half-pushed out the door. 

After winding through a few long hallways, they eventually came to a familiar room. _Great,_ thought Mike, _back to the needle room._ One of the guards began opening the shackles on the table in preparation.

Mike started to panic slightly. _No WAY am I going back in there!_ With a new-found energy, he broke free of the hands that held him and thrust an arm outwards. The side of his hand connected, crushing the guard’s windpipe.

Just as he was beginning to toss a kick into another, something struck him in the side.

“Aaaahhh!” Mike froze and dropped to the floor. He looked dizzily at the weapon the guard was holding. “What the hell – a taser? Really? Since when do ninjas use tasers?” He said, bewildered. He was administered another for his trouble.

“Aaaarrrghh … all right dude, think you’ve made your point … uuhhnn …” Moaning, Mike went limp on the floor. He was still conscious, but his body had become like Jello. A kick landed on the side of his face, another to his thigh. More punches, kicks, laugher. The guards continued pummeling on him for a few minutes. Mike put his arms around his face and head to protect himself and curled up into a fetal position. 

Eventually he was aware of being lifted and strapped into that cursed table, but was powerless to stop it. He lay there, body aching, wondering what to expect next. 

He didn’t have to wonder long. Shortly after the guards left the room, the door opened and his old friend in white scrubs entered. This time, he didn’t have a tray, just one big needle in hand. Michelangelo broke into a sweat. _No, no, oh fuck, not again!_ His chest was heaving. _C’mon Mikey, keep it together, don’t show ‘em how scared you are._ But it was impossible. By the time the needle entered his arm, Mike was full on hyperventilating. 

Moments later, every sensation in his body exploded in white hot pain.


	10. Chapter 10

Don woke up sweating. He crawled over to the water bucket and splashed some water on his face. He drank a little and collapsed on the floor; even crawling the short distance across the room had exhausted him. The cold floor felt good against his burning face.

He’d felt it coming on the day before, but the fever was now beginning to rage. _Fighting off … the infection …_ He lay there without strength, his breathing shallow. He didn’t think his captors were about to start pumping him full of antibiotics any time soon. _Got to try and fight it off ..._

The past week had been an experience Donatello could not, and would not, ever describe. Being from a family of ninjas, studying up on the effects of torture and pain management was almost a prerequisite for him. They had all received training on how to deal with pain using certain techniques. Master Splinter had shown them how to effectively ignore most wounds in battle, an essential skill for maintaining focus on your attacker.

Nothing in Donatello’s training could have prepared him for this. It had been a little over a week here now, and he did not remember a moment when he wasn’t in agony. He sighed. It was alright. He just had to hang on a little longer, surely his brothers were on their way. In the back of his mind, he knew that without his help they were probably struggling to locate this facility. Lacking his knowledge and resources would no doubt slow them down. _If they’re not all locked up in here too, that is._ He pushed the thought away, desperately hanging onto the hope that this nightmare would soon end.

When they had him on the table, the shocks came every ten minutes. He counted the seconds between each one, keeping his mind occupied. It was in this way that Donatello was able to get a rough estimate on how much time was passing. At first he tried to keep from crying out, but as the hours passed he was aware of a slow moan emanating from deep inside his throat. As each shock ravaged his body he became rigid, every muscle turned to solid stone. Dozens of shocks later, the accumulation turned his vocal chords against him, and he could contain it no longer. 

He had thought of it then, as he lay gasping between shocks, and the thought returned to him now. _My body can heal,_ he thought bitterly, _but there’s no telling what damage this is doing to my brain._ It was a cruel fate. How ironic that the smartest amongst them be subjected to such torture. _Maybe it’s not coincidence,_ he thought. _Maybe they know exactly what they’re doing._ Could the Foot Clan really know that much about them? Best not to underestimate them, he guessed.

He shifted on the floor and winced at the pain in his shoulder. The wound was hot with infection and he was unable to move his left arm at all. As he drifted on the edge of sleep once more, he imagined the infection eating his flesh, dissolving it. It felt like thousands of bugs crawling in his wound, devouring him. He yelled out, clutching at the opening with his hand. Snapping out of it, Donatello tried to shake the fuzzy feeling from his head. _Ugh … fever’s getting worse. Starting to hallucinate a little._ On top of the shock treatments, he knew that the fever and general exhaustion were also starting to take their toll on him. 

Desperate to hold onto what was left of his rational mind, Donatello pulled himself into a sitting position. Getting his back up against the wall to steady himself, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He began by reciting a familiar mantra in his head: _To win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill. If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. If ignorant both of your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril …_ *

He controlled his breathing, keeping it steady but increasing it in slight increments. Next, his heart beat, blood pressure – all were rising slightly. Within minutes, pure adrenaline was coursing through him. His eyes snapped open, but he saw nothing with them. He was fully entranced.

In a normal situation, entering such a state of deep meditation would take many hours, possibly days. Getting there in a matter of moments was an anomaly; even Master Splinter himself was unable to achieve such a thing. Perhaps it was the shocks to his brain, or the fever … regardless, this was anything but a normal situation. Necessitation drove him now. More so than to escape from the pain, he had to try and connect with any of his brothers. 

It was black. He projected his soul outwards, searching, scanning the universe for a familiar energy. A cacophony of voices, the sound of millions of beings, rushed through his body like a wave. He let them ebb and flow through, looking for the right one. Like static on a radio, a quick sound grabbed his attention. He moved towards it, shutting out the rest of the noise. It was a voice cutting the stream, becoming louder now. Donatello felt a calm relief with the voice, he felt like he was coming home.

White lines began to bleed in, slowing forming shapes. He became aware of a circular shape in front of him, and focused hard on it. Colors filled the shape and bled outwards, creating a wall with pictures hanging. As he stared, the round shape became a wall clock. It was the clock in his lab. The rest of the scene formed, adding his computer, his books, his piles of junk. He was standing in his workshop in the lair. He turned, heading towards the voice that had pulled him here. His movement was thick and slow, almost as if he was swimming. As he moved, the environment around him blurred significantly, making a hazy effect that obscured detail. It was like seeing the world through frosted glass; disorienting, but he pushed on, determined.

Within moments he found his brother, asleep in bed. 

_“Le … o … nar … do …,”_ the words came, slow and reverberating, like an album being played backwards.

Leo snapped awake and looked startled. “Donatello?” He squinted. “Is that you?” 

_“Leo … need ... help …”_ He labored with the words.

“Donnie! Where are you?”

_“… don’t know … prisoner …”_

“Don! Please!” His voice was dripping with desperation. “We’ve been looking, but we don’t have any clues. Help me!”

_“… no … win … dows ... Foot … sol … diers … white … so … tired …”_

The scene began to shudder and quake. Something was pulling him away, back into the real world. “Don! Don’t go!”

_“… please … don’t … give … up …”_

As Don came out of the trance, he heard Leo’s last words echo in his brain. _Be strong, my brother. We will come for you, I swear it._

**\----------------------------------**

“Now that we have your attention, it is time for you to decide. You now know what this contains.” She said, acknowledging the needle. “You can save yourself from this pain.”

She leaned in close, her breath warm. “Tell us where to find your lair.”

Michelangelo just stared coldly at her. His face only showed one emotion, burning hatred for his captor. Inside, he felt like screaming. _Gotta be tough … can’t show them fear …_

“Very well.” She motioned for the man in white to come forward with the needle, but stopped him just short of plunging it into the vein.

“Last chance, warrior. It is only a matter of time before we find your hole ourselves, why not try to save yourself and help us?” She caressed the side of his face. “All of this could be over, with a word.” 

Mike spit into Karai’s face. It felt good to do it; he thought it was something Raphael would’ve done. The room erupted. A guard lunged at him, striking him in the face. Turning back, Michelangelo locked his hate filled eyes back into hers.

Karai made no expression. She stood still, wiping the saliva from her face as though she were just brushing away an eyelash. She spoke a quick command word, and the guards fell back.

“Disappointing. But perhaps you will change your mind, given enough time here.” She motioned and the man in white completed his task. She remained for several minutes, watching the drug take effect. As Michelangelo writhed and screamed, a cold, satisfied smile crept over her lips.

**\----------------------------------**

Ripped out of his meditative state, the guards began dragging Donatello out of the door. He was in the hallway before he’d completely snapped to. _Back in … for more,_ he thought exhaustedly. This was how it had gone; they’d shock him for hours and then return him to the cell for a while. Rinse, repeat.

Donatello didn’t struggle, but hung limp in their arms. Fighting them was useless; he hadn’t the strength to take on even one soldier, let alone the half dozen that escorted him now. Besides, his thoughts were becoming more and more muddled and he was less aware of his surroundings with each passing moment. _So hot … think I saw Leo …?_ That’s right! Leo was alive, looking for him. The vision had been real, he was sure of it.

As he struggled to complete his thoughts, something caught his attention. A sound, faint … it sounded like … yelling? He strained to hear. Someone was screaming, far off. _Another prisoner?_ It sounded like - no, it couldn’t be. No, he must be imagining it. His state of mind was suspect at best right now, he couldn’t trust in his senses. A chill crept up his spine nevertheless.

As they strapped him down, Donatello’s weary mind tried to make sense of what was happening. He tried to hold onto the thought that Leo was still out there at least, Leo would find him. _Find us?_ Hallucination or not, the screams Donatello had heard were instantly recognizable. He knew them to be that of the youngest brother, Michelangelo. _No. Not Mikey, please … out of any of us, don’t let it be him._

**\----------------------------------**

Leonardo had elected not to tell Raphael about the dream. No sense getting his hopes up. _Besides, it was just a stupid dream._

When he’d connected to Michelangelo, it was different altogether. They had all been trained extensively in meditative techniques, but Leo was by far the most talented of them in that respect. He easily spent the most time meditating in general; to the others it seemed that when Leo wasn’t training his body, he was in his room training his mind. In this, he was on par only with Master Splinter himself. There was no doubt – he’d touched Michelangelo, though his relief was overshadowed by the horror he’d experienced in doing so.

Leo crept along in shadow, keeping in close proximity to Raphael. They’d spotted a marking on a warehouse door a few blocks back, recognizing it as a symbol the Foot sometimes used. Though they didn’t understand the meaning of the mark, it signified that the Foot did indeed occupy this area. It gave them some hope that they were on the right track.

His thoughts returned to the dream again. Donatello, pleading with him for rescue. Obviously his subconscious brain created this, his guilt at losing his brothers to their worst enemies was now haunting him in his dreams as well. Not to mention toying with the fact that Donatello was alive at all. He sorely wanted to believe it, but couldn’t shake that last image of him from his mind: _he wanted to die with honor._

He paused, leaning against a wall. 

“Leo? What's the matter?”

“Even if we do find them, what kind of shape are they going to be in?” He looked at his brother gravely. “They could be injured, drugged … or worse.” _They could be insane. They could be dead._

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure out what ta do once we find ‘em.” He softened. “Leo, don’t do this to yourself.”

Leo’s hand went to his temple. “You didn’t feel him, Raph. I was only in Mikey’s head for a few seconds … I don’t know that I could endure that myself, let alone Michelangelo. What if … what if we’re too late?”

“Look, Leo,” Raphael stiffened up. “I don’t care if we haveta drag two corpses outta there, we’re goin’ in and takin’ our brothers back.” A shadow passed over his features. “And then I’m personally gonna fucking kill every one ‘a them bastards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From Sun Tzu's _The Art of War._


	11. Chapter 11

They were all together. Mike had picked out a pretty decent kung fu movie, and all four brothers were settled down in front of the television.

“Well, it’s highly unlikely,” Donatello sounded mildly annoyed. “I guess theoretically it’s possible, but have you ever seen anyone fight like that in real life? No. You know they’re using wires.” 

“But it is possible! You said it! I heard ya! Mike was triumphant. “Dude! If we just trained enough we could do that stuff! What about those shaolin monks on that boring show you were wachin’ the other day? Those guys were _unreal!”_

“Yeah, well, I tend to think the reports of what the shaolin monks are capable of these days is greatly exaggerated …” Don grumbled. “Besides, the Discovery channel has traded some of it’s credibility for ratings in recent years.”

_“You_ were watching the television?” Leo smirked, turning towards Donatello. “Will wonders never cease.”

“Must a been a pretty great show to tear ya away from that computer for two seconds,” Raph said, leaning back and casually twirling a sai. “You get tired of chattin’ online with guys pretendin’ to be ladies, or somethin’?”

They chuckled. Donatello crossed his arms and huffed, “Better than hanging out with the sausagefest in here every day.” 

One second of silence passed before all three turtles erupted in laughter. It was a funny expression anyways, but to hear the normally brainy brother use such a lowbrow term … _sausagefest_ … it was too much to take. Even Donatello himself couldn’t help but start giggling along. 

The laugher eventually died down. After a little while, Raphael looked down mischievously at Michelangelo, who was seated on the floor in front of him. Mike was starting to get engrossed in the film once again.

Casting a sly look at Leo and Don, Raphael said, “Hey, watch this,” and extended a hand towards Mikey’s neck. 

One second later, Mike suddenly found himself lying on the floor, unable to move. _Great. I GOTTA get Raph and Leo to teach me those pressure points one of these days._

The three un-paralyzed turtles burst into another round of laughter. “Ah, don’ worry Mikey, you’ll be up an’ around in a few hours,” Frozen to the floor, Mike’s eyes turned to Raphael, widening. _HOURS? Oh, damn you, Raph._

Through his laughter, Leo attempted to put Mike at ease. “It’ll wear off in a couple of minutes Mike, not to worry.” Leo wiped a tear from his eye.

Mike could see all three brothers in front of him, all laughing, smiling. Something was wrong. He was stiff and the floor was biting into him, like he’d been lying there for hours. He tried to speak, but nothing was coming out. _Raph, Leo, Don … guys, help me._ His vision and hearing were getting fuzzy. _Guys? Help me!_

Michelangelo awoke on the floor of the cell.

He just couldn’t contain it anymore. The dream had been way too saccharine. What cruel fate would show him such comfort and return him to this hell? Sobs racked his body. He pressed one hand tightly against his mouth to contain the noise of it. He missed his brothers, his home. How he just wanted to be there now. He wondered what the others were going through; probably running themselves ragged looking for him. No, not ‘probably’… definitely. He knew his brothers were tearing the city apart looking for him. Their bond was strong; they would not rest until he was recovered. That thought just made him even more homesick. 

Days came and went, but being that there were no windows anywhere in this place, it was impossible to tell how much time was passing. Sometimes he was hauled off and given the injection, sometimes they just came in and beat him. His body was covered head to toe in cuts and bruises. One hand was swollen shut and he was pretty sure one or more of his fingers were broken. Exhaustion forced him into sleep when they weren’t busy with him. Sweet sleep, it was his only escape.

_That’s it then. I’ve died and gone to hell._ He wished he knew anything. Was anybody coming to rescue him? _They keep asking me where the lair is … must be ‘cause the other guys escaped. Just gotta give ‘em some more time._ He clung to that thought, but nothing was for certain. All Michelangelo knew was that he’d been here for a long time. So long … it felt like a goddamn eternity since he’d left the life he knew.

Even meditation was becoming a dangerous thing for him now. Though it still served as an escape from this misery, he knew that he was starting to shut down. He remembered Master Splinter warning them that long periods of intense meditation could be lethal, especially in times of great stress; it was crucial not to overdo it in extreme situations. _“Use caution not to go too deep too often, or you may not be able to recover,”_ the old rat had said, _“it is possible to lose your way, entering a sleep you may never wake from.”_ Though the words rang in his head, he could not fight it. Michelangelo put his head to the wall and found freedom.

**\----------------------------------**

It wasn’t the physical torture; the shock treatments, the wounds, the blood, the infection, the fever. It wasn’t the helplessness, the hopelessness of each passing day. It wasn’t the constant fear that any moment would be his last. It wasn’t even the sickening ignorance of where his family had been all this time, whether they were looking for him, whether or not there would be any escape from this wicked place.

No. What drove Donatello to the edge, to this foreign feeling of pure hatred, was what he saw in that room. He felt murder capable in him. Someone would die for this.

He looked at Michelangelo’s battered body and saw his brother dead. Michelangelo no longer existed. His eyes, frozen open, were a blank stare. He was almost unrecognizable thanks to the amount of damage on his person alone; his body was so bruised and swollen that he barely even resembled himself in a physical sense. None of that mattered now though.

_This is why they put me in here,_ thought Donatello. _They wanted me to see this._

Michelangelo; the youngest and most childlike, the one that always made them laugh. He was stupid, he was ridiculous, he was annoying. He was a constant pain in the ass. He got _so_ excited about the latest video game, he’d talk your ear off for days about it. He was constantly pulling pranks. _He still gets scared of the dark, for god's sake._

Don thought that what he’d endured up to this point was bad enough … but this was just too much. How dare they. How _dare_ they. 

That was what did it. He swore revenge; silently, passionately, he vowed to return this pain upon them tenfold. _Mikey … I don’t care if it takes my entire life, I will avenge this._


	12. Chapter 12

_(Raph.)_ Just a whisper, barely audible. 

_(I see ‘em.)_

Leo led the way up, to get a better position on them. With a little more distance between themselves and the Foot soldiers now, they were able to converse a bit more freely.

Raphael pulled out his sais in readiness.

“Wait. Two of them … probably scouts. We should follow them.”

“Or, we could just pound the snot outta’ them until they tell us where to go.” Raphael was gearing up. He was tired of looking, it was time for action. 

As Raphael took a step forward, a katana blade materialized in the way, blocking his path.

“Raphael. We wait. That’s an order.” 

Instinctively, Raphael shot a pissed off look at his brother. It disappeared the moment he looked into Leo’s face. There was something different about the way he looked now, the way his voice sounded as he’d said those words. It conveyed anguish beyond words. 

In that moment, he finally understood. Raphael looked at his brother, knowing his torment. _He blames himself. He always does._ Being the leader wasn’t a desire for power, it was a terrible burden. The responsibility of keeping his family safe was a constant weight upon him, always the foremost thought in his mind at all times. _An’ I haven’t exactly made it too easy for him._

“Leo. I’m sorry.” 

Leonardo knew what his brother was saying. It wasn’t this last bit of impulsiveness he was apologizing for. He was sorry for all of it, for all of the fighting and bickering. For the rebelliousness that had eventually spiraled them all into this nightmare.

“It’s not your fault, little brother.” He used the nickname with compassion, in a protective sense. Eyes steady, he sheathed his katana.

“Leo-” Raph started.

Leo tensed, and placed a hand up. _Shh …_ it said. Raphael stopped and followed Leo’s line of sight. The two Foot soldiers were on the move. Leo gave his brother a nod: _let’s go._

The two turtles moved invisibly across the rooftops, always keeping a short distance behind their quarry. They trailed them for hours, until at last they observed the Foot slip into the window of an old, deserted-looking building. _It’s a medical facility,_ thought Leo. His stomach turned at the imagery of it, thinking of his brothers inside having medical "procedures" forced upon them. _This has got to be the place, no doubt about it._

They cased the perimeter of the building, looking for possible entry points.

**\----------------------------------**

Far away, it felt like someone was touching him. It was a gentle touch, it felt good. This confused him. He furrowed his brow. _What?_

His chest raised and fell with breath. The heart still beat. The eyes blinked once. Upon his entry, Don understood right away that Mike’s physical form was still functioning but it was entirely on autopilot. The lights were on, but nobody was home.

His brother was broken. Donatello also understood now that everything he’d endured here had also been visited upon the youngest turtle, though Mike was the least equipped to deal with such a thing. _This never should have happened to him. It’s not right._ Don’s fist clenched, his heart ached. There was no life in Mike’s eyes. The body kept breathing, but the soul was dead.

Donatello crawled his way over to where his brother was sitting. Mike was leaning into the wall absent-mindedly, like a stuffed doll propped up against it. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mikey.”

Mike turned slightly in the direction of Donatello’s voice, but didn’t look directly at him. _Miles away,_ Don thought sadly. “Mike, it’s Donnie.” He shook his brother slightly. “Mike.”

_Don? So confused. Where am I? What’s going on?_ The blinding white room was coming back into focus. Something was off though. There was something in the way of the white. A large, green blob in his vision. He reached out towards it. It felt warm, familiar somehow.

“C’mon Mikey, snap out of it!” _That’s … Donatello’s voice?_ His eyes focused. Slowly, his brain began to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Don …?”

“That’s right, it’s me,” Donatello’s heart leapt. Maybe Mike wasn’t brain-dead after all.

“Don, how–" Michelangelo saw his brother at last. He was alive! Donatello was alive and he was here …?

He saw something else now. Don looked thin and exhausted. He had sores all over his body, and his shoulder was black. Realization was finally setting in. “Donnie … not you too…”

Without another word, Donatello pulled his brother into him. The two embraced fiercely, a sense of relief washing over both. “Don … don’t leave me … don’t leave me here alone anymore …” Mike was crying now.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mikey.” Michelangelo buried his head in Donatello’s chest, his entire body shuddering with sobs. _I understand now,_ Don thought. _I get it. I understand the rage, the bloodlust Raphael feels, this is why._ Again, he swore blood on his enemy. _I will kill them for this, and I will enjoy doing so._

**\----------------------------------**

Donatello said he figured it had been about three weeks. It didn’t sound like a lot of time really. Unrelenting, ‘round-the-clock torture would change your mind about such a thing, though. Don’s fever had broken some time ago, and he was thankful for the ability to formulate his thoughts again, especially now that he was reunited with his younger brother.

“Donnie.” Michelangelo’s tears slowed. “What about the others, are they here too?”

“Leo’s safe. I was able to touch him. He’s looking for us right now, Mikey.” He had his good arm around Mike’s shoulders.

“An’ Raph?” He looked up at Donatello, eyes huge and wet. _Innocent,_ thought Don. _Just like a kid’s._

“I don’t know. But I haven’t seen him here … they’re probably both out there, searching for us.” The words filled them both with hope, accompanied by the image of the two eldest turtles coming to release them from this horrid place. They both knew the determination with which their older brothers would be looking, and almost shuddered to think what would happen to anyone that got in their way.

“Mike,” Donatello inquired, “Mike, are you alright? Are any of your wounds serious?”

Donatello started looking over Michelangelo, assessing his injuries. None of the cuts looked too serious, but one of his hands was swollen pretty badly. _Probably some broken bones,_ Don thought. _If I don’t set it soon, he may never use that hand again._ But it was pointless to try here with nothing to splint it. _Looks like they’ve used him as a punching bag._ Don could feel the anger welling up in him again. Mike’s body was more black-and-blue than green. His flesh was lumpy and knotted with scars and scabs. Something else caught his attention. Bruising all along the insides of both arms, with several small holes over the veins. _Injections. Have they been drugging him?_ He’d assumed initially that Mike had been given the same shock treatments that he’d been subjected to, but closer examination of his brother told a different story.

Before Michelangelo could answer, Don pressed him, “Mike … what did they inject you with? Tell me.”

Mike dropped his eyes. He began panting heavily, trying to speak. His entire body was shivering.

“Whoa hey - it's okay.” Don held onto him, “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.” _Shit._ “Just tell me you’re okay now.”

Chest still heaving, Mike nodded his head slowly. After a moment, he spoke. “Don’t know … don’t know what it is. Always wears off eventually.” _And then they stick me with it again._ He was shaking uncontrollably. 

“S’okay, Mikey … it’s okay …” Don cooed at him, trying to comfort his little brother. They sat there in silence for a while.

After some time, Michelangelo spoke. “Donnie … I’m glad you’re here. I wish you weren’t, but …” he trailed off.

“It’s okay Mikey, I understand.”

“Your shoulder … does it hurt?” Mike noticed that Donatello wasn’t moving the arm on that side.

Donatello sighed. “I don’t really feel it so much anymore.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Okay Fearless, what’s the plan?”

Leonardo thought for a moment. “Not too many outside …” He trailed off deep in thought. He began again, “It could be heavily guarded inside. The longer we go without alerting them to our presence, the better. We’re going to have to stealth this one entirely.” Raphael sheathed his sais for the time being. “Keep your eyes on me, and wait for my signals.”

“Place is pretty big.” Raphael said, “How we gonna know where t’look for ‘em?”

The ghostly voice of Donatello echoed in his brain: _… no … win … dows …_

“Basement.” Leonardo said, “We start in the basement.” The conviction in his voice told Raphael that there was a reason, but Raph didn’t want to waste any more time with explanations. 

“One last thing,” Leo pulled out his phone. “We might need some help getting out of here.” Keeping the call brief, he quickly explained the situation to the person on the other line.

He snapped the phone shut and looked at Raphael, giving him a slight nod. Without a word, Raphael silently followed his older brother into the courtyard of the broken medical compound.

**\----------------------------------**

They were in. Picking their way along the rafters, Leonardo and Raphael did not make a sound. They were in a high-ceilinged room; it looked like the front lobby of the facility. Leo stopped, motioning for Raphael to join him. They stayed there still for a moment, listening. When he was confident that the coast was clear, Leo started making his way to the floor, motioning again for Raphael to follow.

They reached the floor and paused, crouched in shadow. There were no enemies in sight. There didn’t seem to be any lights on anywhere in the building and it looked like the electricity was off altogether. A fair amount of moonlight was entering the windows however, allowing quite a bit of visibility. _Place looks deserted. Hope we’re not on a wild goose chase,_ Leo thought.

There was a stairwell in the corner of the large room. The two older turtles made their way to it swiftly. Leo peered around the corner and looked downwards. _Jackpot._ There was light spilling in from below, they had to be on the right track. 

Once he secured the area, he and Raphael made their way down. They came to a closed door with a small window in the top. White light spilled through it, blinding in the darkness. 

Leo carefully peeked inside, and then quickly dropped to a crouched position underneath the window. He looked at Raphael, holding up two fingers. He pointed at himself and motioned, then pointed at Raph and motioned again. _I’ll take out the one on the left, you take the one on the right._ Raphael nodded his understanding. Leonardo turned and quietly opened the door. Two sickening _cracks_ later, the bodies of two Foot soldiers hit the floor with their heads twisted like corks. The brothers quickly lifted the two bodies and dispensed them back in the stairwell, out of sight.

They were in a long hallway. This section of the building was painted white from floor to ceiling, and the electricity was most definitely on in this wing. The white paint actually reflected so much light it looked amplified here, effectively destroying any hope they had of staying hidden. 

Leo looked at Raphael. _This is gonna be tougher than I thought,_ he said with his eyes. There were several doors along the hallway. _No choice but to start at the beginning._ Leo motioned at Raphael _(follow me)_ and crept up to the first door.

**\----------------------------------**

_Can’t help but wonder why they’ve decided to put us in here together now._ Donatello kept the thought to himself, not wanting to upset Michelangelo any more. What were they planning? He didn’t know, but he was getting a sinking feeling thinking about it.

Hours passed, and it seemed that the two youngest brothers had been all but forgotten by their enemy. _Maybe they’re just leaving us to die in here,_ thought Donatello. He sighed. _Not very likely._ He sat with his shell to the wall. Michelangelo had fallen asleep an hour ago, his head resting on Don’s good shoulder. 

When the door burst open a moment later, it snapped Mike awake. He and Donatello sat frozen in fear as guards spilled into the room. The guards did not make a move towards them however, but instead stood rigid and anticipatory. Both of the brothers looked towards the door, each holding his breath.


	14. Chapter 14

A sign on the wall listed the names of the staff. Psychology, psychiatry, therapy; Leo gave it only a passing glance, but it revealed where they were. _So this wing of the hospital is the mental ward._ That would explain why all of the rooms looked like prison cells.

They made their way slowly along, Leo peering carefully into each room as Raphael kept lookout. Each door had a tiny rectangular window at the top, crisscrossed with wire. Methodically they moved, checking each and every room for any sign of their missing brothers. 

Reaching the end, the hallway bore right. At the corner, Leo put his back against the wall. Pulling out one katana, he held it up, turning it slightly back and forth. The reflection in the blade told him everything he needed to know. He showed Raphael six fingers, paused, and made a small sweeping motion with his hand in that direction. _Six of them, down the hall._ He then threw out five fingers, followed by a closed fist. _Fifty yards._ He unsheathed his other katana quietly and gave Raphael a nod. There was no way to move in unseen, they had no choice but to rush them. Raphael understood. Following suit, he took a sai in each hand and readied himself for battle.

Of course such a small group of Foot soldiers were no match for their skills, but Leonardo was counting on being able to dispatch them all without making too much noise. He and Raphael moved with such speed that they were able to close the gap between themselves and the foot before their enemies were even aware. 

Seconds later all six Foot soldiers lay on the floor. Leonardo swept back over them, finishing off the wounded before their death throes could alert anyone. As he put his katana through the heart of the last writhing enemy, he looked up at Raphael.

Leo spoke barely above a whisper. “Can’t hide the fact that we’re here now,” he continued, “we’d better move quickly.”

“Right behind ya.” Raph followed Leo through a set of double doors, hurrying into a small lobby. This room branched off into several different hallways. They paused there for a second, contemplating which direction to go in. 

Movement. They turned simultaneously in that direction, just in time to hear the Foot soldier whistle. His guts decorated the floor a second later, but the damage had already been done. More enemies moved in, and Leo could hear them signaling each other, like a virus sweeping through their ranks. 

“This is it, brother. We stand here. Raphael, we must not fail.” Never had their leader sounded more resolute, more determined than he did now.

“Leonardo.” Raphael never used his full name. He looked hard at his brother. So much was said in that moment, without words. As if they’d never really seen each other until now. “Failure was never an option.”

The ensuing battle was truly epic. Despite running themselves ragged during the previous weeks, despite the sleepless nights and constant worry, both brothers were at peak performance. The Foot were falling in bloody heaps. Wave after wave kept coming, but it was fruitless. With an almost supernatural efficiency, Leonardo and Raphael annihilated their forces with the precision of expertly skilled warriors.

Before long, the floor was slippery with a river of blood. Raphael inched his way around, orbiting Leo until he was on a cleaner patch of floor. He was careful to keep Leo close; so far they’d been able to hold off each attack without too much trouble, but that could change at any second. _Ain’t that tha’ truth,_ he thought, images of that cursed night flashing in his head.

An unlucky Foot soldier came between them. As Raphael drove a sai through his eye socket, two blades erupted from his chest, nearly impaling Raph in the process. Weapons retracted, and the foot was a ragdoll, sinking into the floor.

Looking slightly surprised, Raphael locked eyes with his brother. “What’s our next move, Fearless?” The assault on them was starting to die down, and they were going to have to make tracks soon.

Leonardo had made a decision on which direction to go in, but never got the chance to say it aloud. He opened his mouth to speak, but something happened before sound emerged from it.

A scream, terrible and fantastic, reverberated into the room. If the two brothers had had any hair, it would’ve been standing on end. 

Raphael looked at his older brother, and choked out one word. “Mikey!” 

Mike was alive. Mike was still alive. Under ordinary circumstances, Raphael would’ve been driven mad by that pained scream. He would’ve been all but blinded by rage, hearing his brother in such agony. But all he could feel now was relief. _Mikey’s alive._

He didn’t even pause for a second. In retrospect, it was a move that would’ve gotten him a harsh lecture later on, under any normal circumstances. In this instance it could be forgiven, especially because Leo himself was guilty of the same impulse. The remaining few Foot soldiers were forgotten entirely.

Raphael bolted towards the sound of Michelangelo’s voice, Leo hot on his heels.


	15. Chapter 15

He stood there for a second, frozen in time, drinking in the satisfaction. Though his face was mostly obscured by the mask he wore, his eyes told them everything they needed to know.

“Saki.” Donatello spit the word out, a disgusted sound, like the word tasted bad. 

The Shredder stood still, chest moving, his eyes brimming with a hatred so true. Karai flitted in, accompanied as always by a couple of their most elite soldiers, her personal guard. She entered formation close to the Shredder, a show of her importance among their ranks.

“My master is disappointed with your insistence on staying alive. He has watched your progress remotely, but now tires of this game.” She took a few steps forward towards them. “It is time to end this.”

She signaled to a couple of guards and they moved in. Hands grabbed Michelangelo. 

_“Mikey!”_

He didn’t make any sound at first, didn’t struggle or resist. Eventually, Michelangelo just raised his head slowly, painfully, and looked at his brother. “It’s okay Donnie.” So calm, so serious. So sad. So unlike himself.

Michelangelo was hauled out of the room. Karai left with them, but the Shredder did not move. Before she was entirely out the door, she gave a hand signal to the remaining guards.

They fell upon him. Donatello, weak and hurt, exhausted and emaciated, had nothing to offer. Stoically, pathetically, he tried in vain to block their attacks. 

His eye exploded in stars. His lip gushed blood, and a few teeth slipped along a blood stream out of his mouth. Attacking an unarmed and utterly defenseless enemy, was there anything more dishonorable? Spitting blood and teeth, he croaked, _“Cowards.”_

The attacks increased in intensity. _Taunting them … not the smartest thing I’ve ever done,_ he thought cynically, _but definitely satisfying. _It made him think of his more impulsive brother, Raphael. Impossibly, a smile crept over the side of his bleeding mouth. _I regret nothing.___

__Pain exploded throughout his entire being. No thought could enter, no feeling. Pain was all there was, pain was all there would ever be. A punch had connected squarely into his wounded shoulder, bursting the wound open. A mix of blood and pus spilled out, a sickening smell of rotting flesh filling the air._ _

__He was vaguely aware of more punches hitting his frame, but it was all so far away. Eventually the attacks stopped, but he was hardly aware. As he was lifted upwards, his body tried to vomit, but nothing was there to expel._ _

**\----------------------------------**

Michelangelo was shackled to the wall this time, both arms in a single knot above his head. _Sorry … Leo … sorry … Raph … Donnie … Master ..._ He repeated the chant through his head. This was it. He knew that death was soon, his desperate mind turning only to his family in this moment. _Sorry … so sorry … I failed you all …_

He heard a commotion outside, and then the door opened. 

Donatello was dragged in and thrown unceremoniously into the corner of the room. Several guards took position on either side of him. He raised his weary head and met eyes with his brother. Incredible though the pain was, his shoulder was momentarily forgotten. _No, please, no … this can’t happen. Please._

He didn’t know what he was praying to. Donatello was far too analytical to put much stock in the spiritual. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him from crying out in his head, pleading for some _deus ex machina–_ type savior. _Please, somebody help us._

He raised his chin and looked at his brother, trussed up like a slab of meat on the wall. Michelangelo’s eyes were hollow. _He’s giving up._ Donatello wanted to scream at him. He wanted to tell his brother to keep fighting, to stay strong … but what was the point? One or both of them were not coming out of this room, that much had been made clear. He just wanted Mike’s pain to end now. 

Flashes … images, sounds, feelings, input. So fast, the way they say "my entire life flashed before my eyes" … only this was Mike’s life. Donatello’s memories of his brother, flashing by in seconds. He saw Mike at seven years old, crying because Optimus Prime had died in the movie. He saw Mike snuggling up to Raphael, the two of them asleep on the couch after a long training session. Mike caught sneaking out of Don’s lab, keyboard in pieces, grinning sheepishly. Mike rambling incoherently last summer, as Don put him to bed after a drinking session with Casey and Raph. Mike sparring with him. Mike smiling. Mike laughing. Mike happy.

Always happy. That was Michelangelo, before all of this madness, of course. _Don’t worry little brother,_ Don thought. _It’ll all be over soon._

**\----------------------------------**

Michelangelo’s scream was deafening in the small room. The _tambo_ had nearly shattered his kneecap. Donatello lunged forward on impulse, but a swift kick sent him flying back into the corner.

And still, the Shredder did not move, did not speak. He stood, arms crossed, a voyeur statue in the room. Donatello’s eyes met his. _He’s enjoying this._

“I will say it again. You will tell us the location of your lair,” Karai looked deep into Don’s eyes; hungrily, lustfully. Pure evil aside, she was actually quite beautiful. _In another life, I could’ve loved you,_ he thought absently, feeling disgusted by it.

He said nothing. Her hand went up, another blow fell, and another mind-shattering wail erupted from his helpless brother. Quiet tears began to fall down Donatello’s face. “Tell us, and your brother will be given a quick death. Fail to comply, and my master will see to it that his suffering never ends.” To drive the point home, she signaled another attack, this one landing across Michelangelo’s face.

Gasping, Mike looked at him, struggling with the words. _“Don’t … don’t, Donnie …”_

His face wet, Donatello looked at him silently. He spoke evenly, not taking his eyes away from Mike’s. “Go to hell.” _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry … Mikey._ New tears blurred his vision, but he made no sound. 

The man Oroku Saki, known to them more commonly as their greatest enemy the Shredder, at last broke his silence.

“Enough! You are stubborn, turtle.” He spoke slowly, his voice just above a growl. “Your failure to give in to us is admirable. However, it will not save you or your family from your fate.” He turned towards Michelangelo. Without another word, he swiped one forearm across Mike’s chest, flaying it open with his bladed gauntlet.


	16. Chapter 16

They tore down the next hallway, the sounds of several enemies keeping pace behind them. A few rooms down, one of the doors stood ajar.

As they neared the open room, Leo slowed his pace and held up one hand. “Hold on.” 

Peering inside, the room looked empty at first. Then he saw something in the corner. Slipping inside, he examined it a little closer. Raphael stood watch in the hall, turning to look over at Leo through the doorway.

“Blood,” he said, touching a small bit and rubbing it between his fingers. “It’s fresh.” His eyes darted around, getting a quick assessment of the room. _Looks like a prison cell._ “Raph, we need to hurry.”

The sound of their pursuers was getting closer. Raphael whipped around and entered an offensive stance, ready to face them. Pausing only a second to re-examine his red finger, Leonardo soon joined him.

The attackers were few, and the brothers made short work of them. The small group of enemies was a good sign. The pool of warm blood he’d discovered only reinforced the assumption that it was going to be difficult to get all four of them out. _Hopefully we’ve dented their forces enough to allow us to escape._

Another scream erupted from the distance, much closer this time. “C’mon!” Raphael shouted, sprinting in the direction of the sound. As they approached another set of double doors, his eyes caught the sign on the wall: surgery. He grimaced at the sound of the word in his head, as he and Leo stepped through. _When we get to those bastards screwin’ with Mikey,_ he thought, _I’m gonna do a little surgery of my own._

Four Foot soldiers stood several yards down the hall, congregated outside another set of double doors. Guards. “That’s it.” Leo said, bolting towards them. They both knew right away that Michelangelo’s shrieks had been coming from this room. A minute later, all four guards lay in a bloodied pile, and their suspicions were confirmed.

**\----------------------------------**

The door fucking exploded.

From the noise alone, it was a wonder that it hadn’t busted off its hinges and flown across the room. A green foot slammed down, the turtle attached to it seething with hot, insane rage. His presence was so alarming, in fact, that the few foot soldiers in the room froze entirely for a few seconds in total shock. But there was one among them that did not falter.

Leo slid in next to his enraged brother. “Shredder … impossible,” Leo exhaled the last word. The sight of their old enemy resurrected was shocking, to say the least. But that didn’t diminish the task at hand. 

Leonardo stood tall and serious, almost regal. He spoke confidently, truly, as a great and proud leader. “Saki, we have come for our family.” He continued in a growl, “Hear me now – for every drop of my brother’s blood spilled, I intend to empty a river’s worth of yours.” Like a feral animal, Raphael breathed heavily through clenched teeth beside him.

“Strong words for a shepherd responsible for losing his flock.” Saki stepped aside, revealing the limp and bloody body of Michelangelo hanging on the wall. “You are too late, _Leonardo.”_

_“rrrraaARGGGHHH!”_ A bestial scream passed his lips as Raphael hurled himself at the Shredder. They clashed metal gauntlet to metal sai, locked and frozen together for a split second. 

Leo turned just in time to block an attack from the opposite side. There were a handful of Foot soldiers on him, but not too many for him to handle alone. He was more worried for Raphael taking on the Shredder by himself, then noticed Karai moving in on the battle between them as well. _Damn, got to get over there now!_

Leo flipped backwards, retreating to his brother’s side. He’d made it just in time to face off with Karai. She was furious at this intrusion, and it showed. Armed with a single katana, Karai attacked aggressively, leaving little possibility for Leonardo to do anything but defend. _She looks pretty pissed. Bet I can use that against her._ The thought almost made him smile a bit with the satisfaction. This fight felt very familiar to him.

Sure enough, clouded by her fury, Karai made a crucial mistake. Intending to fake her out, Leo allowed himself to appear briefly vulnerable. As she took the bait and rushed in with an attack, he was ready for her. _Same thing Raph always falls for,_ he thought. He easily parried her thrust with one of his blades, pushing the steel of the other through her flesh. 

Karai yelled. The blade had entered the right side of her chest and exited just underneath the shoulder blade. Switching the katana to her right hand, she took a final swipe at Leonardo. He avoided it easily, slipping his buried katana back out the way it had come.

She made as if to attack once more, then dropped to one knee, clutching her wound. Her lung punctured, she labored for air.

**\----------------------------------**

The Shredder was by far their most formidable opponent, not just in the sense of his position of power, but also in raw skill. Saki’s interpretation of the martial arts was his own invention; his Foot Clan exhibited one of the world’s most deadly fighting styles.

None of that mattered to Raphael, though. He was blood-crazed with thoughts of revenge. He growled with each swipe, becoming more and more aggressive as the fight raged on. Even though he now fought with a level of power previously unknown to him, Raphael was making little progress. Saki moved expertly, flawlessly avoiding every attack. Raphael, on the other hand, had caught a few swipes of the Shredder’s signature gauntlets and was now bleeding from several gashes in various places. Regardless, he felt nothing of them, instead focusing only on one purpose: _kill._

When he’d rushed towards his opponent, Raphael noticed that one set of the Shredder’s ominous blades was already doused in blood. _My brother’s blood,_ he thought, nearly insane with his fury. His sai thrust forward, narrowly missing another opportunity, but also allowing the Shredder to seize his wrist. Saki grabbed Raphael’s shoulder with his other hand, turning him around and forcing him forward on the floor. A second away from shattering Raphael’s arm at the elbow, Karai’s yell interrupted. The Shredder paused for only a second, but it was enough. Raphael maneuvered out of the joint-lock and brought one sai around, interlocking it with the gauntlet’s blades and driving it directly into the nearby table with such a force that both weapons were driven right through. 

Raphael released his sai, now wedged in a tangle of metal. Brandishing the remaining sai, he grinned triumphantly at his enemy, who was pinned and struggling like an animal in a trap. “Ain’t gonna be any mistake… you ain’t comin’ back to life this time, asshole.” Raphael lifted his weapon.

The Shredder looked at him with pure malice in his eyes. “Not today, turtle.” He barked out a couple of words in Japanese, and the remaining Foot soldiers in the room went into action.

While a few fell upon Leonardo, the others used the opportunity to lift Karai and move for retreat. Before Raphael could strike, the room exploded in smoke. 

Within a few seconds, the smoke had cleared enough to get an outline of the room again. Coughing, Raphael saw that the gauntlet remained buried, but the arm inside of it was missing with the rest of the Shredder. “Dammit!” He growled in frustration. 

_Shit, Mikey._ Suddenly, with the berserker madness wearing off, Raphael’s focus turned back once more to his brothers. Leo was already kneeling by Donatello’s side by the time Raph made his way to the bloody and lifeless turtle hanging on the wall.

**\----------------------------------**

Leonardo, half-lifting Donatello off of the floor, pulled him into a hard embrace. “Don … thank goodness you’re alive.”

“Mike … get Mikey …” It was all Donatello could manage. Even though the entire battle had only lasted minutes, he had tried to crawl his way across the room, his only thought that of his dying brother. _It’s all my fault,_ he thought sickly, _I could’ve done something, stalled them …_

There had been a terrible sound from Michelangelo when the Shredder struck him. The wound was deep and calculated, executed with the intent to kill. Mike cried out with an anguish that sounded pained, but Donatello heard a heartbreaking note of relief in there as well. Glued to the floor in utter shock, his voice was gone, his very breath stolen away. Eyes locked in with what appeared to be his brother’s final moments, Donatello saw the sad calm in his eyes: _it's okay … it’s okay, Donnie._ Then his head had fallen forward, and he remained that way now. “Leo … _Mike …”_ Donatello struggled to stand.

For Leonardo, it was taking everything he had not to completely lose composure. Seeing Donnie in this state was too much for him. For weeks their fearless leader had tormented himself with images of what his brothers might be going through … but nothing compared to what he saw here, now. Donatello looked like a shadow, a ghoulish caricature of his former self. He was gaunt and covered in sores. His shoulder looked like something out of a horror film. “Leo!”

Snapping out of it, Leo gently finished lifting Donatello, using care to avoid the left side of his body. He winced as his brother let out a small groan. The two of them made their way across to room to where Michelangelo hung. 

Raphael was there. The metal cuffs now open, he slowly lowered Michelangelo’s body to the floor. He knelt, cradling Mike’s limp body in his arms like a baby. From behind, Leo and Don could see that Raphael’s muscular frame was still heaving with deep breaths, presumably from the intensity of the previous battle. “Mikey?” He was speaking low, gently shaking his brother. “Mikey, wake up.”

Raphael’s was at a loss. “Come on Mikey ... wake up.” As Don and Leo neared, he looked up at the two of them, defeated. _What do I do?_ His face said. _I don’t know what to do!_

Donatello reached out with his good arm and touched the lifeless turtle. “Pulse is weak … still breathing …” Panting slightly, he looked around. “… need to stop the bleeding … plug the wound …” he said, pointing at a nearby corpse. The others understood. Leonardo ripped the shirt off of the dead foot soldier and handed it to Raphael. 

Though the battle hadn’t lasted long, Mike had bled out pretty bad in that short time. A frightening amount of blood not only painted Michelangelo, but there was also a significant puddle on the section of floor below where he’d hung. The wound was beginning to clot, Donatello noted with a modicum of relief, but there was still a steady stream flowing. He instructed Leo to press the cloth against the wound with a good amount of pressure. Removing his belt, he had them secure the makeshift bandage in place. 

“We have to move.” The urgency in Donatello’s voice was not lost on his brothers. Raphael lifted Mike carefully and slung him over one shoulder, careful not to disturb his bandaged chest. Leonardo lifted Donatello to his feet and put Don’s good arm around his shoulders. Leo wrapped his own arm around his brother’s waist. “Don, are you okay like this? Can you walk?”

“I’ll manage.” As they started to move, he spoke to Raphael, “Raph … if I start to slow us down though, you guys just go – he doesn’t have much time. Master Splinter and April will be able to help.”

Raphael looked at him grimly. “We ain’t leavin’ nobody behind. I swear it Donnie, even if I haveta’ take on all'a the foot myself.” He grunted, raising up onto his feet and hoisting Michelangelo’s body.

“Raph-” Donatello tried to protest.

“Let’s go.” Raphael cut him off, moving for the door. Retrieving his forfeited sai with another grunt, he cast one last look upon the bloody gauntlet still piercing the table and swore vengeance. _I won’t forget this, Saki._

They hurried out the door. Leonardo reached around the back of his shell and unsnapped his phone, hitting the speed dial. “Casey! We got ‘em - ready for extraction." He paused and added, “Mike’s wounded bad, we need to rush this.”

“Ten-four Leo, we’re at the meeting place, moving in now.” 

Good, Leo thought, they made it after all. He stowed his phone. “Casey and April are close by with the van, let’s move it.”


	17. Chapter 17

Progress was understandably slower with two injured brothers to worry about, as all four now made their way through the winding halls. They actually moved pretty quickly considering, but it still felt like an eternity to Donatello. Moving at this pace was exhausting and his shoulder was screaming at him. The wound was still leaking somewhat, and he had a small river coursing down his arm.

“Leo … Raph … thank you. Thank you for saving us …” He swallowed, then gasped pitifully, “Thank you so much …” The relief in his voice was almost excruciating for his brothers to bear, it told such a story of suffering. 

“Easy, save your strength,” Leonardo said gently. “Don … we never stopped looking.”

“I-I know.” Even though they’d only gone a short distance, Donatello was panting heavily. Leonardo noticed he was getting heavier to hold up with every step. _C’mon Donnie,_ he thought to himself, _just a little more, you can do it._ They were so close now, but Leonardo was getting an increasingly sinking feeling that this ordeal wasn’t quite over yet.

They made it to the staircase. Donatello’s head was pounding and his vision was starting to get blurry. As they entered the stairwell door, his knees buckled and he pitched forward, narrowly avoiding planting his face onto the tile. 

“Leo?” Raphael turned back, concerned.

“Got him.” In a swift motion, Leonardo lifted up his brother and carried him up the steps, keeping pace behind Raphael. _Got my hands full now too,_ he brooded, _cuts down on my reaction time … makes us all more vulnerable._ He breathed deep and concentrated on his five senses, determined to be hyper aware of any impending threat.

Raphael stopped dead at the top of the stairs. “Leo! We got company.”

Leonardo could see them now. Foot soldiers, moving in from across the main lobby. “Raphael – go! Get Mike to safety, I can hold them off.” He lowered Donatello to the floor, just inside the stairwell doorway, giving his injured brother some protection. A small moan escaped Donatello as he leaned his back against the wall.

Raphael froze for a second, conflicted. They were so close, the front doors to the lobby were in sight and the van should be right outside them. Mike was the priority … but could he just leave Leo and Don behind like this? Was there time to get back before Leo became overwhelmed? There wasn’t time to make a decision like this.

“Raphael, move it! THAT’S AN ORDER!” The command in Leonardo’s voice got Raphael’s feet going. His katanas at the ready, Leo flew at the enemies, allowing his brother a clear escape route to the lobby doors. Raphael barely caught the sound of metal clinking behind him as he burst through.

**\----------------------------------**

Outside, Raphael moved with breakneck speed, pausing only a moment to survey the area for the parked van. A rumble of the van door directed his eyes towards it; it was parked a good distance away in a nearby alley. The van was well hidden in the darkness, but now April was standing next to it, signaling him. As he approached, she was there to receive them, her face dark with concern.

“Raph! Where are the others?”

Panting heavily, he struggled with the words. “Mike’s hurt … help him …” He laid his delicate cargo down inside the van hastily, gesturing towards the cloth wrapped around Mike’s chest. Having already exited the driver’s seat upon Raphael’s approach, Casey was there now, helping support Mike as Raphael lowered him down.

April lifted the cloth on Michelangelo’s chest, peering at the wound closely. Grabbing the medical kit she’d hastily put together before leaving, she tore the bag open, frantically pulling out several types of bandages. “Take these,” she instructed, handing a pile to Raphael. “When I remove this, press them down onto the opening and keep them there.” She lifted the blood-soaked shirt from Mike’s chest and Raphael did as he was told. “Casey, lift him up.” As Raphael kept pressure on the wound, she quickly but carefully unraveled a roll of bandage around the circumference of his torso, locking everything in place. “Okay. That should keep him stable for a little while-”

Raphael didn’t wait for her to finish. “Case! Leo and Don are in trouble!” Raphael barked, unsheathing his sais and turning back in the direction he had come. 

“I’m with ya’!” Casey Jones had come prepared. Entering into character, he slipped the familiar hockey mask over his face as he ran, a worn baseball bat already in hand.

**\----------------------------------**

At first, Leonardo hadn’t been terribly worried. There were quite a few enemies to contend with, but he felt confident that he could hold them off. The important thing was to block passage to the stairwell where his defenseless brother lay, which he seemed to be achieving thus far. _Assuming there aren’t more coming up on our rear._ He tried not to think about it, there just simply wasn’t anything to be done about it now. He doubted that he’d be able to protect Donatello from a second attack, in addition to holding off the current wave. Nevertheless, he kept a short distance between himself and the doorway, keeping aware of any possible movement from that direction.

But more soldiers were descending on them, and literally – they were dropping in from above. Leonardo was a whirlwind, a tornado of blood. It was a technique he used whenever fighting solo against multiple enemies. Keeping his arms mostly outstretched, his blades orbited around him, cutting a perfect sphere of protection around him. It made him very difficult to approach, as several Foot soldiers found out the hard way.

His drive was absolute, his movements flawless, his footing sure. Various appendages of the Foot clan littered the floor. He grimaced slightly, as a spray of blood shot across his face.

He had been taught that no technique was flawless and knew that he was still vulnerable to the right attack. _If ignorant of either your enemy or yourself, you are in peril._ He recited the quote in his head, just as the shurikens hit the floor by his feet. He rolled, missing another hail of steel spikes. He looked up. There was movement in the shadows above them.

_They’re in the rafters,_ he thought, dodging another round of projectiles while simultaneously fending off a dagger to his side. He was struggling to stay on the move, needing to avoid the attacks from above. The enemies on the ground were slowing him down, causing him to dangerously remain in one place too long. _They’re doing it on purpose._ He furrowed his brow. _Good strategy._ He slid one bloody blade out of a soldier’s midsection just in time to block a sai coming towards him. The foot ninja gave his weapon a hard twist, effectively locking Leonardo’s blade within it. Leo struggled to free it, his attention divided to blocking another attack with his remaining katana.

_Damn, got to move!_ He panicked, but it was too late. Before he could free his katana, a shuriken buried itself in the back of his right calf. He let out a short, sharp cry as it pierced him, then the knee above the wound buckled, sending him down on it.

His swords never faltered. He did not feel pain. _Donatello … Michelangelo …_ He said their names in his head. Leonardo was the oldest, the protector. He was the strongest … he had to be. He freed the trapped katana, cutting a quick death for the unfortunate sai warrior. Another fell to the other sword, his mutilated guts splashing to the floor a second before his body joined them.

He stood back up, shifting most of his weight onto his good leg. Something caught his attention just then, his focus broken for only the slightest of moments. It was enough to make him regret it soon after.

There was motion in the direction of the stairwell. His ears picked up the sound first, and then his eyes caught the shadows moving within. Donatello was in trouble.


	18. Chapter 18

The two of them crouched beneath the large front lobby window, peering slightly over the sill. Raphael cursed at the sight inside.

“Shit!”

“No way…” Casey said, in utter disbelief. “That can’t be-”

“Yeah, it’s him. Ran inna’ him earlier.” The sound of his voice changed when he said it, making Casey feel uneasy.

Casey moved, trying to stand, but Raphael’s hand came down hard on his shoulder. “Wait!” Raphael growled at him. “You stay here, outta sight. Lemme go in first.” Raphael took off like a shot, heading around the side of the building.

“But Raph – hey where ya goin’?” Casey started, but gave up. Raphael was already gone. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the lobby. Staying crouched, he slowly moved a little closer to the entry doors.

Raphael knew he had to hurry. He also knew that he couldn’t be seen though, if he was to do any good. He’d wanted to burst in through the doors and rush them, but knew that it wasn’t an option. _Never woulda’ made it in time … he’d a’ just snapped Donnie’s neck in an instant._

With cat-like precision, he climbed the fire escape and entered silently through the hole in the wall there, the very same entry that he and Leo had used when this mission began.

**\----------------------------------**

“You have cost me a great deal of warriors on this day, _turtle._ I will return the favor to your sensei.”

Leonardo’s eyes locked into the Shredder’s, both figures unwavering. Disarmed and forced to his knees, his hands were held fast behind him by a couple of Foot ninjas. 

Several Foot soldiers came in from the doorway, dragging Donatello roughly along. They threw him to the floor at the Shredder’s feet, as a dog might present a gift to its master. Donatello grunted as he dropped and Leo thought, _at least he’s still conscious._ Given how dire the situation was, he wasn’t sure why that thought relieved him, but it did.

Donatello lifted himself up with one shaky arm, pathetically rising slightly from the floor. He didn’t make it very far.

“Before I end your pathetic life, I will show you your failure.” With those words, Shredder grasped the defenseless Donatello by the throat and lifted him into the air.

“Shredder! Release him! I swear Saki, I won’t allow this–“

The Shredder narrowed his eyes slightly, squeezing harder on the helpless turtle’s neck. Donatello barely had the strength to struggle. Feet dangling, he weakly grabbed at the Shredder’s hand around his neck, unable to pull it away. He was making sickly gasping noises, trying to gain breath. It was a terrible sound in Leonardo’s ears.

The Shredder laughed, an evil sound. “You are hardly in a position to stop me, Leonardo. Once I finish with him, we will perhaps introduce you to some of the horrors your brothers have become accustomed to.”

“I still have allies,” Leonardo said through clenched teeth, “they will come for us.” _Got to keep him talking, stall him,_ he thought. There was no question that Raphael was on his way in now, Leonardo was sure of it. He just hoped that Raph would make it in time. And as an afterthought: _I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid, either._

“Your allies …” he spit the word out, “are of little use to you now. Who will come for you, Leonardo? Your human friends? The old rat? Don’t make me laugh. Or are you still counting on your remaining brother to stop me? The one you call Raphael … he is nothing but a coward.”

Leonardo, adamant, drew in breath. “Raphael would die to protect us.”

A heavy blanket of silence descended upon the room for a split second. Suddenly out of nowhere, the twisted corpse of a dead Foot soldier slammed onto the floor at the Shredder’s feet, shurikens rattling to the floor with him. Startled, he looked up in the direction it had come from, but it was already too late. Two green feet belted into the Shredder’s chest, sending him backwards onto the floor. Donatello fell sideways, coughing, painfully drawing in large gasps of air.

Rapahel stood heaving, sais drawn, with death in his eyes. “Wasn’t through with ya earlier Saki.” He clenched his teeth and growled, pushing forward to attack. _"Gonna make up for that now.”_

**\----------------------------------**

Outside, Casey watched as Raphael literally ‘dropped in’ on the Foot. “Whoa! … Guess that’s my cue,” he said aloud to himself, heading for the doors.

As Casey entered, there was no question where he was needed the most. He ran towards Leonardo, smashing a Foot soldier’s skull with the meat of his bat on the way. Some of the others surrounding Leo were now breaking away to meet their new adversary, creating an opportunity that Leo wasn’t about to miss.

Leonardo pitched forward in a roll, breaking the hold one Foot soldier had on him and bringing the other soldier down onto the floor with him. He shot up quickly to face them, shifting his weight slightly onto his good leg. Several other Foot were advancing on him now. _Damn … got to up the odds,_ he thought. He looked off to his right, to the katanas lying on the floor there.

He felt a momentary pang of regret, seeing them cast away on the floor so carelessly. His swords were an extension of him, so much a part of his being that he felt naked without. Maintaining a purely defensive approach, he successfully fended off each attack and made his way over, scooping up his wayward katanas. Feeling whole again, he drew himself up into an intimidating stance, his blades poised and ready. A small, menacing smile crept across his lips. “Come at me.”

Two of the approaching enemies actually turned and fled. The others froze for a moment, unsure. Leonardo didn’t allow them another. He flew at them, cutting a path of total carnage in the direction of Casey. Many dismembered appendages later, he and Casey were within close range, and only a few Foot remained.

“Casey! We need to get to Raph!” Leonardo yelled.

“Go on, I can handle these guys.” He shouted back, snapping the butt of his weapon into a Foot soldier’s face. The ninja’s nose exploded and he fell screaming backwards, his face now a faucet for blood.

“You sure?” Another Foot toppling, his torso nearly cut in two.

“Yeah man, I’m good.” His bat connected with a head, twisting it around like a knob.

Leonardo wasn’t wasting any time. With a few last quick attacks, he pushed them in aggressively towards Casey and then retreated quickly in Raphael’s direction. _Hope Raph’s alright._ He hadn’t been able to get a good look at his brother since the fight began, but he had periodically picked up his voice over the sounds of battle. _He always rages more when he’s getting tired,_ he thought worriedly, _but he’s still making noise, so that’s a good sign._ One thing was certain; whatever was going on over there, it had sounded like Raphael was losing steam.

**\----------------------------------**

From the very beginning, Raphael had felt a wrath building within him. It began the second he realized that his brothers were taken and increased with each agonizing day as he and Leonardo had turned up empty-handed. Every minute of every day, it built slowly, becoming a thing eating at his insides. When they’d entered this hellhole, he was able to get some relief by doling out punishment on the Foot Clan, but all of that changed once they’d found Don and Mike. Seeing how much the two of them had suffered had amplified this feeling tenfold.

At first, he’d engaged the Shredder coolly, keeping in stride with his training and maintaining a level head (though ‘level’ for him didn’t exactly mean the same thing as it did to his brothers). That would change.

He saw Michelangelo in his head, as he laid him in the van. Remembered how lifeless and cold the body felt. He thought about Mike’s blood, everywhere in that room they’d found them in. He saw the meat protruding from Mike’s wound, deep enough to spill what was inside out. He thought of the last time he saw his brother aware, on the battlefield kicking the shit out of some Foot soldiers.

Building, intensifying … Raphael was approaching critical mass.

Donatello had lain slumped on the floor where he dropped, but his eyes were still open. Posing no threat, he was pretty much forgotten but still remained in very close proximity to the fight between the Shredder and Raphael. The Foot soldiers that had dragged him into the room were now entering the fray between them, increasing the threat to Raphael.

_Got to do something … got to help._ Donatello slowly raised himself to his knees. He was weak, he was dizzy, but his determination pulled him from the floor. He rose up onto his toes, crouching, steadying himself with his good hand.

Despite the initial surprise at Raphael’s entry, the Shredder had recovered quickly and was putting up one hell of a fight. The spiked gauntlet missing from his arm was not slowing him down by any means, as he had already armed himself with a _tanto_ in that hand to make up the difference. He and Raphael exchanged blows. The Foot soldier grunts began to move in and Raphael was forced to shift focus away from the Shredder, a dangerous situation he was all too aware of.

Locking his sai with the tanto, he blocked the gauntlet coming at his face, swiping it away. The Shredder attacked again, aggressively keeping him occupied as the Foot grunts drew closer. The gauntlet came down again, this time twisting his other sai and locking it in. _Shit!_ He was trapped. He struggled to release, but knew there wasn’t time.

**\----------------------------------**

Donatello took a deep breath. He saw his opportunity and acted on it flawlessly.

Despite the horrid punishment his body had been through these past weeks, Donatello used every last bit of his strength remaining to pounce forward. His leap was executed perfectly and he hit his mark at the waist, sending both of them down hard. As he hit, pain ripped from his shoulder throughout the entire left side of his body, paralyzing him to the floor. All five senses shut down; there was only the sensation of pain. His body began subconsciously pulling into a fetal position where he lay, unaware that he was doing it.

That was it.

Surprised at the sudden attack, Raphael looked on with a sort of tunnel vision. Time froze. It was Donatello, his brother, lying there in front of him.

He looked at his brother, the most gentle and least violent of the four of them, struggling on the floor with the most excruciating look of agony on his face. His throat was making small sounds, unable to release the scream that was caught there. His eyes were wide and unseeing, staring into a place that didn’t exist.

Donatello who had always taken care of all of them, who’d patched them up (Raphael most of all), whose knowledge had most likely saved their lives on many occasions. Donatello who’d stayed away night after night trying to get one of his ‘toys’ in working order … always with the sole aspiration of enhancing their security.

Even now, through this harrowing escape, Don’s only thoughts had been for Mike’s wellbeing. It was obvious by the look of him that he’d endured just as much as the youngest brother these past weeks, but even now, even broken as he was, he still managed to somehow come to Raphael’s rescue.

That was it. It was this sight unfolding before him now that caused Raphael to snap.

In all honesty, if Leonardo hadn’t shown up right then, it was very likely that Raphael would’ve taken an attack from behind. The Foot grunts entirely forgotten, Raphael wasn’t even aware of their dying sounds behind him.

Raphael was a hothead, he raged in battle and was sarcastic at home. He was harsh, irritable and always played the ‘tough guy’. Nearly every comment or action from him was aggressive. It was just his personality, it was how his brothers knew him to be; anything less just wouldn’t be Raph. So seeing him pissed off, especially in a fight, was to be expected and there was really never anything surprising about it.

This was different. Leonardo had never thought his brother capable of what was coming out of him now. It froze him in place for a second, filling him with terror.

Like a nuclear bomb, Raphael erupted pure fury. He gave one guttural, primal scream as he leaped onto the Shredder, driving both sais into each one of his shoulders.

_“YOU’LL PAY… YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”_ His voice maniacal, he shouted as he twisted the sais. _“YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY BROTHERS!"_

Saki, sans mask and helmet now, growled hatefully at his enemy as the sais dug in. His face disgracefully exposed, his eyes spewed pure venom as he shouted a command, his utter disgust present in his tone of voice.

And for the second time that day, smoke filled the room, masking the defeat of the Foot clan. Raphael, stubborn and refusing to move, kept the Shredder pinned until a blow hit him in the side of the head. It only took his attention away briefly, but it was enough for several hands to pull the Shredder out from underneath. Furious, he stood, swiping madly, blindly into the air around him with both sais out.

His voice built into a shrill, insane pitch. _“SHREDDER! COME BACK HERE! I’LL KILL YOU, I SWEAR IT! YOU HEAR ME SAKI? I'LL CUT OUT YOUR THROAT! I'LL RIP EVERY LIMB FROM YA, I'LL-!”_

“RAPH!” Suddenly, Raphael became vaguely aware that someone had been calling his name.

Panting heavily, he shook his head slightly, allowing reality to bleed back in. “… Leo?”

“Raph forget them! We gotta get Don and go!”

With one last frustrated grunt, Raphael dropped his sai-clenched hands forcefully to his sides. _Don and Mike ... he’s right, we gotta move._ The room invisible, he dropped to a crouch and called out to Donatello. “Donnie where are ya?” No response. He felt along the floor around the area where he’d last seen his brother fall. “Don!”

At last he felt a familiar leg, and grappled onto his brother. Lifting him up, he said, “Don! Are ya alright?”

Donatello was still completely tensed up, making small choking sounds. He managed one word, “… Raph …”

“S’alright Don, we’re getting’ ya outta here now.” He lifted his brother quickly over his shoulder and grimaced at the whimpering sound Donatello made. _No time to worry about that now, though._

“Leo! I got him.” Leo acknowledged him, and then shouted to Casey. All three started for the direction of the lobby doors.

**\----------------------------------**

Outside, the van rumbled to life as soon as they exited. Coughing, and glad to be in fresh air once again, they ran to meet it.

“Leo, you okay?” Casey had seen the bloody shuriken sticking out of Leo’s leg during battle, but only remembered it now as Leo began to fall behind, his limp pronounced. “Here, lemme help ya.” He offered a shoulder for support.

“Thanks Casey.” Though he hadn’t felt it much during the battle, his leg wound was making up for lost time now. “It … just started hitting me, heh …”

The van screeched up. Raphael laid Donatello inside, sitting him up and climbing inside next to him for support. Casey and Leo followed in, careful to mind the body of Michelangelo lying inside.

The doors closed, and April threw it into gear. Within seconds, the broken hospital was starting to become only a memory.

Leonardo kneeled next to Michelangelo. “April? Is Mikey-?”

“He’s still with us.” Her tone was attempting to sound light, but the gravity of his condition came through.

Donatello, body still rigid, was starting to become more cognizant. He fought hard to release the words. “... thank you …” He swallowed, hot tears of relief falling down his face. “Everyone … thank you so much …”

“Easy … it’s over now.” Leo reached over and touched his brother’s good arm, barely able to retain his own composure. April had to force herself to concentrate on the road, as her own vision blurred.

Donatello took a few deep breaths and regained himself. “Need to check Mike …” He began to move towards his unconscious brother, Raphael still holding him upright. Upon examination, he was relieved to find that April had done a fine job of binding the wound. There wasn’t too much blood coming through the bandage, so the bleeding had apparently slowed significantly after its application.

Donatello motioned for the first aid bag sitting nearby. They helped him unscrew a bottle and he administered himself the antibiotics inside. Painkillers followed that, _but not too much,_ he thought. _I’m still needed._ He handed both bottles to Leonardo, instructing him to take both, since he could now see that his older brother was also sporting a nasty wound.

Leonardo had grabbed a towel from the van shortly after entering and pressed it against his leg to catch the blood. The towel was filling, but slowly enough not to be of immediate concern. Leonardo swallowed the antibiotics, but placed the painkillers back in the bag. “Don’t need these,” he said, thinking, _better save what we have._

Donatello didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, he began inspecting Leonardo’s leg. “By the angle … could be pinching off an artery … got to be careful removing it.” He was pleased to see that his brother had done the smart thing and not pulled the shuriken out immediately, something Raphael would surely have done in his place.

For the remainder of the trip, Donatello gave careful instructions to all of them on how to care for Michelangelo. Carefully, methodically, he went through everything from where to find certain medical supplies, to how to change and dress the wound, to what to do if complications arise. He went slowly, careful to put everything into layman’s terms for them.

As Donatello began, Leonardo had just thought that he wanted to be sure Mike was well cared for; after all, Donatello was in no shape to look after him consistently, and would need all the rest he could get himself. As Don went into ever increasing detail, however, a sick feeling made its way into Leonardo’s stomach. _He’s not prepping us to help out,_ he thought with grief. _He’s teaching us what he knows in case he dies._ He didn’t know what gangrene looked like, but the smell of rotting flesh coming from Don’s shoulder made it hard to think that it could be anything else.

Though ultimately victorious in their rescue, the mood within the van was a somber one. Their adrenaline now wearing off, it was difficult for the ninjas to feel much comfort at their reunion, for it was obvious that the battle was not won yet.


	19. Chapter 19

Back at the lair, Donatello felt another sweeping sensation of relief as he returned home and could not again contain his tears as he gently embraced his father. Their reunion would have to be short lived however, as the focus remained on Michelangelo.

Overseeing their progress, Don now took them step by step through what needed to be done. Mike was laid out in the makeshift infirmary just off of Donatello’s lab. Don helped them start an I.V. and rechecked the wound. Watching as April cleaned it out thoroughly, he had her apply antibiotic gel to the area and rebandage it. She followed by checking all of Mike’s vital signs, keeping a record of them close by. He selected an injectable antibiotic from the medicine stash, giving her careful instructions on the dosage.

Donatello used his good hand to carefully inspect Mike’s busted one; sure enough, two of the fingers were broken there. Though she felt squeamish about it, April kept it to herself as she snapped each one back into place, setting a splint on each. That done, she helped Don go over Mike’s entire body one last time, checking each bone and joint for additional fractures. It was all they could do without the benefit of Michelangelo being aware enough to vocalize his own injuries.

When Mike was settled, Master Splinter took a seat up next to him for the first watch. Donatello then turned his attention to Leonardo. Don’s painkillers were kicking in, but they were doing little to mask the pain. He was however, able to complete his thoughts a little better.

“Alright, he should be … be stable for a while. Leo … you’re next.” Donatello was still breathing heavy between statements, as if it still took great effort to speak.

“No way, Don. You’re done here. We can handle this from here.” Leonardo maintained his stoicism. He knew that under any normal circumstances, his wound would’ve been considered quite serious and that no one other than Donatello would be qualified to take care of it.

“Not up for ... for debate.” Before further protest could be launched, Donatello began giving April and Raphael their orders.

With Donatello again looking on as surveyor, April and Raphael prepared to remove the steel shuriken from Leonardo’s leg. Lying face down on an old medical table, the extent of Leonardo’s injury became apparent. His calf was swollen almost double in size and the wound was an angry red around the invading object.

Raphael gripped the shuriken and twisted it back and forth slightly, pulling it very slowly outwards, while April kept pressure down around the area. Leo’s entire body went rigid and he gripped the table, grunting through clenched teeth. At last, the shuriken was out and the wound bled freely, but not "punctured-major-artery" bleeding, Donatello noted with a sigh of satisfaction.

April cleaned the wound and packed it with sterile gauze, all under Donatello’s explicit instruction. When Leo was finished, Don repeated which antibiotics he was to take and at what intervals.

“Donnie, please.” The sadness in Leo’s voice was heavy. “That’s enough. Tell us what to do for you, now.”

He sighed. “All right. This one’s … just going to be … April and I, I think. Help me into the other bed ... and I’ll explain.”

Still, before he’d let them begin treating him, Donatello insisted on going over Michelangelo’s care one last time. He sent for Master Splinter and recanted his previous instructions again for the benefit of his sensei and again for April, whose nimble fingers would most likely be doing more of the intricate work.

Finally satisfied that things were under control, Donatello asked that they leave him and April alone.

**\----------------------------------**

April pushed the needle into Donatello’s good arm, starting the I.V. drip. She recorded his vitals, as he instructed. When she finished, she sat nervously next to him. There was something weird in the air and she waited expectantly for him to speak.

“April.” He sounded very calm, a tone that only increased her nervousness. He went on. “April, my shoulder … became infected while I was there.” He paused, lowering his voice. “It’s gangrenous, now.” The word fell like a death sentence.

She swallowed. “So what do we do?”

“We – I mean, you – will have to cut away the dead flesh.” He looked at her gravely. “April.”

Try as she might, her traitor eyes were beginning to wet despite her best efforts. “Y-yes?”

He looked at her, so beautiful and concerned for him. There was never a harder sentence to speak. “April, the chances of me surviving this are slim.”

Her eyes ruptured tears. “Oh … oh, Donnie.” She lovingly stroked the side of his head.

“You mustn’t feel responsible,” he went on, “in case things don’t go well.”

Somehow, that statement was even worse than the last. She thought then about how Raphael sometimes called Don the "mother hen." It was so true. Even now, believing that his life was coming to an end, Donatello was still looking out for her.

She injected his arm with the appropriate amount of morphine. Drying her tears, she put her ninja face on. There was no room for mistakes here.

“Donnie?” She spoke gently, “I’m just going to leave for a second and let the guys know what’s going on.”

“April, wait.” He grasped her arm, looking at her pleadingly. “Don’t tell them everything.”

She gave a quick nod in understanding, trying vainly to give him a smile.

**\----------------------------------**

Raphael and Leonardo were sitting in the living room, a news program playing on the television that neither was watching. Don had advised Leonardo to go to bed (and keep his leg elevated), but Leo was too restless to comply. His leg was throbbing, but the bleeding had trickled to a stop.

Michelangelo was relatively safe for now, sleeping with Master Splinter nearby. They had done all they could for him at the moment, so there was nothing left to do but wait and hope that his condition would improve. Their main focus had now shifted to Donatello, who, all things considered, had pulled a worrisome move by only allowing April in with him for the time being. Raphael was restless. _What the hell’re they talkin’ about in there, anyways,_ he thought.

Trying not to think about it, Raphael cast a sideways look at the turtle in blue. Leonardo believed that he was maintaining himself perfectly. Raphael had been his brother too long though; it was obvious to him that the fearless leader was in a state of distress.

“Leo … uh … can I getcha’ anything?”

“I’m fine.” The pain from his injury only made him feel incredible guilt. _How can I even complain next to what they’ve been through?_ “Raph," he started. 

"Yeah?"

“You think … uh …” he stumbled, looking for the right words. "You think they’re going to … be okay?” He choked at the last bit, but managed to keep it together. He couldn’t help but think again how Donatello had sounded in the van. They had been so worried about Mike initially. Don didn’t look great, but the fact that he was awake and talking to them had made it seem like he was going to be alright. Now Leonardo wasn’t so sure.

Raphael looked at his brother. They’d been through so much together, the weight of the entire situation was falling on him now. He instantly felt terrible for every thing he’d ever done to Leonardo.

“Leo …”

Just then, April entered the room. She gave them a quick rundown of Donatello’s condition, keeping true to his _(final? No – she pushed the thought out)_ request that she not tell them how grim the situation was.

After ensuring that she didn’t need their help, they settled back down uneasily, waiting for her to return with more news. Although she’d tried to sound hopeful, both brothers couldn’t help but notice the redness of her eyes. It was obvious she’d been crying.

**\----------------------------------**

_“There is no map,”_ he’d said. _"You just have to shoot everywhere.”_ April remembered Donatello’s words as though nothing else existed in her memory. _“Think of the flesh as a sponge, soaking up the injection.”_

She painstakingly swept the wound, injecting the local anesthesia with care. Still awake, but mostly unaware, Donatello was making small sounds and grunts, his head turned in the opposite direction. Witnessing the actual procedure could likely send him into shock, so he attempted to shut down as best he could. Though they were without the benefit of a hospital and general anesthesia, the local mixed with morphine was a pretty decent substitute.

_“April … I won’t be myself after the morphine takes effect, you can’t trust anything I say from that point on …”_

April O’Neil, who had been many things in her life – once a scientist, once a reporter, and most recently, a ninja-in-training – now fancied herself a doctor. If only she could have traded places with anyone else in the world.

Remembering that she was (now) a ninja, she listened to Master Splinter’s lessons in her head, preparing herself. Steeling her mind, she chose a scalpel and set to work cutting the decaying flesh from her most dear friend, his life entirely in her hands.

**\----------------------------------**

_“… both the position and the momentum cannot simultaneously be known with infinite precision at the same time … supersymmetry between ... between forces and matter, with both open and closed strings … no tachyon … group symmetry is es-oh-thirty-two …”_

It was mostly rambling scientific nonsense, but not always. There were the times when he believed himself conversing with his family, acting accordingly to each situation as if it were a normal day… and that was bad to watch. But what was worse was the memories they could never know, the ones that came from that evil place.

Fever had set in a second time for Donatello. A combination of that and the morphine took away whatever lucidity he might have started with. When he wasn’t mumbling nonsense or raving at nightmares, he would sleep. April diligently cleaned the wound every day, and although there were no visible signs of infection brewing there, the fever was solid indication that there was one. Though he was still more animated than his comatose brother, Donatello’s situation was much more frightening.

Donatello’s body would sometimes seize and he would begin yelling, screaming at his captors to stop, please just stop hurting him, or worse, to stop hurting Michelangelo. Each time one of these episodes occurred, everyone in the lair ran to his side, trying to calm him. It got so bad at one point that they considered keeping him in restraints for his own safety, but Leonardo and Raphael both vetoed that decision right away. In addition to remembering the shackles they’d seen Mike in, the circular bruising around the ankles and wrists of both brothers was enough to tell them that it might be too much for Don to handle.

April felt exhausted, but it did not deter her efforts. She and Casey both had been staying over every night for a week, leaving only briefly here and there for necessities. Mostly, it was Casey who went out, as April was now taking Donatello’s place as caregiver. When she wasn’t tending to her charges, she was either on the internet or pouring through Don’s collection of medical journals, trying to find any information she could to help their situation. She’d managed to keep Donatello’s fever down to a non-lethal level through medication, but even after several days it refused to break. Michelangelo, on the other hand, was improving … well, his wounds were looking better. He still hadn’t woken up however, and there was no guarantee that he ever would.


	20. Chapter 20

Michelangelo stirred slightly, and opened his eyes.

Raphael glanced over at the sudden movement and froze. The magazine he’d been holding spilled to the floor as he leaped up out of the chair and stood at his brother’s side. “Mikey …” he breathed.

Michelangelo’s eyes closed again for a few seconds, and then opened. He did this several times, Raphael all the while repeating his name softly.

Finally, his eyes open, Mike blinked a couple of times and looked at Raphael, seeing him. “Raph?” he croaked.

“Yeah, it's me.” Raphael could hardly contain his joy. He leaned over and hugged Michelangelo gently. “Welcome back, Mikey.”

Rising back up, Raphael turned towards the doorway and shouted for the others. After quite a bit of commotion, Casey and Leo entered, followed by April and Master Splinter moments later.

Michelangelo was understandably foggy, but the familiar faces began to bring him back slowly. They all greeted him warmly, hugging and touching him, smiling and sniffing back tears.

Leonardo was smiling, but said with some concern, “Michelangelo. How do you feel?”

“Ugh … like shit …” He smirked a little, a face the old Mike had made a thousand times.

They laughed a bit at that. It was an easy sound, lifting some of the tension that had encased all of their lives for so long now. It wouldn’t last long.

“What happened? Can’t remember …”

“Easy there. It’ll come back to ya. Just relax for now.” But as Raphael laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder, he wished just the opposite. _Better off if he never remembers._

“Mike uh, you were injured when …” Leonardo swallowed, looking at Raphael. “… when we fought with the Foot. You’ve been in a coma for the last week. But everything’s fine now, you’re going to be just fine.”

Michelangelo nodded slowly. It was starting to make sense. He looked around the room. Right. He was in bed, in the infirmary. Everyone was here, looking after him, worried about him. Okay, no surprise there. But something seemed … off, somehow. Something was missing here, but what was it? His brow furrowed. It was like he could almost remember, but it was just out of reach. He looked down at himself and saw the bandages across his chest, then saw the many bruises and scars. _Jeez, thought I felt pretty sore … they really got me good this time …_

Then he saw something else.

At first, it looked like he was having a seizure. Michelangelo’s hand gripped the side of the bed as though he was hanging on for dear life. Shaking and gasping for air, his horrified eyes became transfixed on his other arm.

Raphael and Leonardo each grabbed a shoulder and held him down. “Mike! What’s wrong?” Michelangelo, unresponsive, was in total shock. Raphael turned around and yelled, “Ape! What the fuck’s happenin’ to him?”

April rushed up and put her hands on Michelangelo’s cheeks, trying to get him to look at her. He was hyperventilating now. “Mikey? Michelangelo! What is it!” Following his gaze, she thought she understood.

She tore out the I.V. quickly, a small trickle of blood following it along his arm. Almost immediately his body relaxed somewhat, but he was still breathing too quickly.

“Easy, easy!” April turned his face up to look at hers. “Slow, deep breaths.” 

Michelangelo did as she instructed. He closed his eyes and drew a couple of deep breaths, then spoke. “I remember … I remember everything.” A flood of memory overwhelmed him, he was drowning in it. A few more breaths, then: “Donnie.” His eyes snapped open. That was it, what had been missing. Donatello wasn’t here. His brother, whom last he’d seen as a prisoner, who’d been mortally wounded, was not here. “Where's Donnie!”

He lunged upwards, but Leonardo and Raphael both continued to hold him down gently. “Take it easy!” Raphael growled. “Don’s here, he’s alive.” He sighed. “I guess we should fill ya in on the whole story.”

Leonardo looked at Raphael, then down to Mike and also sighed. “Yes, I suppose there’s no use in putting it off.”

The room settled once more. April gently laid a hand on Michelangelo as she spoke. “I’ll go make you something to eat while you guys catch up.” She stood to leave. “Casey, why don’t you give me a hand?”

“Huh? What do ya need me for?” he said absently. She shot him a look. Oh, how he knew that look. “Oh, I mean, yeah … you’re totally gonna need my help.” As they both exited the room, Master Splinter came to Michelangelo’s bedside.

“I will meditate now, my son. I will, however, return later to speak with you when you have finished with your brothers.” He leaned in, embracing his son a second time. “I am glad you have returned to us, Michelangelo. I love you, my son.”

“Thank you Sensei … father. I'm really happy to be home. And I love you too.”

**\----------------------------------**

They began by telling him about Donatello.

They left out some of the more heinous details, such as the night Donatello had gotten out of bed and left his room. Though they were set up to watch around the clock, Raphael had left briefly for a bathroom break. When he returned, Donatello was gone. Raphael had searched frantically, finally locating him in his own bedroom, crouched in the corner. _Please,_ he was saying, _I just want to go home … please let me go home …_ He kept repeating it over and over. Unaware that he was safe at home, his feverish mind was forcing him back into imprisonment.

When Raphael approached him, he cowered away, burying his face in the wall. “Don, it’s me, it’s okay.” He tried to comfort him, but if Donatello had heard, he didn’t act like it. _“… brothers … my brothers … my brothers will come for me…”_ he mumbled, swaying. His head lolled to one side and Raphael caught him just in time, picking him up and solemnly returning him to bed. Most of Don’s episodes after that had been in reliving the experience, much to his brothers’ dismay.

They didn’t need to tell him that. Regardless, he was going to want to see Don for himself, so it was best to prepare Mike somewhat. They made sure that Mike understood that Donatello was in bad shape, but didn’t want to scare him with too much. When April had filled them in on his condition, even she remained vague about his chances. She didn’t have to say, really. Based on what they’d all seen in this past week, it was obvious to everyone now that Donatello was going downhill fast.

“Guys … I need to see him.” Michelangelo was desperate. “Help me up.”

Leo stood up, grimacing slightly at his leg. “Mikey you should probably stay in bed …” The words fell weakly, he spoke even as he stood and began supporting Mike’s arm.

Michelangelo went slow, but managed to get to his feet. With a brother on either side of him, they all worked their way over to Donatello’s room.

April was there, checking on Donatello’s blood pressure. She looked a little surprised to see them at first, but smiled and finished up quickly. As she excused herself, she reminded Michelangelo not to overdo it.

When April left the room, no one spoke. Donatello lay quietly, only the sound of his breathing could be heard. Mike reached out and touched him on his good arm. “Hey Donnie.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Donatello’s body tensed a little. “Don … it’s me, Mikey.” Michelangelo swallowed, fighting back tears, and went on. “I, uh, just wanted you to know that it’s all good … I’m doin’ fine now, so … so, no worries.” Michelangelo just stood there for a minute, stroking Donatello’s arm, then whispered, “Hey dude, it’s all over now. We made it, we’re home. C’mon, you gotta wake up and hang out with us now.”

“Mikey.” Donatello spoke the word solidly, but did not open his eyes. All three turtles froze, their breath caught in their throats.

Remembering himself, Michelangelo spoke with a hopeful tone, “Yeah, Donnie. It’s me, Mikey.”

Donatello’s eyes opened, but he did not look at his brothers. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, into nothing. “Mikey … it’s going to be okay.” He went on. “Remember that time when we were kids … you started digging that tunnel in the junkyard? I tried to stop you at first, but you talked me into it. We spent so many hours building it … you dug out the main part, I added all that stuff to the inside. Remember how we used to sneak off there once in a while?” Donatello smiled calmly, tiredly.

“Y-yeah … it was pretty cool.” Stuttering, Mike was taken aback.

He turned slightly in the direction of Michelangelo but did not look into his eyes. Don’s own eyes were still vacant, looking at something somewhere else. “Sometimes, I like to imagine that we’re there, hidden away in the junk, where it’s safe.” He went on. “Mikey, listen. It’s going to be alright, little brother. I know that they’re coming for us. I saw Leo, he swore they’d come.” The comforting aspect of his voice was unnerving.

“Don… Donnie. It’s okay. We’re home now, it’s all over. Okay?” Michelangelo was clutching his shoulder and shaking it with his working hand, laying the splinted one across Donatello’s chest. “Please Donnie … please wake up…”

But Donatello did not wake up. Instead, he drifted back off into sleep and nightmares.

**\----------------------------------**

The dragged him back to bed.

“He … he took care of me. In there…” Mike was sobbing now. It was all just too much for him.

Raphael and Leonardo exchanged a look. “Mikey …” Leonardo said his name.

After a few deep breaths, Michelangelo recanted what he would of his story. He left out the worst of the details, only filling them in on what was necessary. Incredibly, he marveled, it was actually almost worse having to face his family now with it. Even though he held back the most horrible parts, the look on his brother’s faces as he told his story was almost worse than anything he’d endured there.

When he finished, Leo began with their end of things, starting with the fight on the rooftops. Raphael interjected here and there, adding bits to the story, and eventually Michelangelo had a pretty good understanding of what had happened.

“So you just, like … jumped him like Batman?” Mike sounded incredulous. “Death-from-above, style? Damn.”

“It got the job done.” Arms crossed and acting cool, Raphael couldn’t hide the satisfied smile creeping over the corner of his mouth.

Leo chuckled. “Yeah, I've got to admit, it was pretty cool. Raph really let Shredder have it.”

Mike’s tone went serious again. “I’m sorry. Sorry I caused so much trouble for you guys. If I’d been tougher like Donnie …”

“Michelangelo.” Leo had his "big brother" voice on now. “Whatever you believe, know that none of this was your fault in any way.” He was standing by the bed now. Raphael followed suit, both of them looking down on their bedridden brother now. “If anything, it should be me apologizing to you.”

“Uh, yeah … that makes two of us.” Raphael looked slightly uncomfortable.

Before Mike could protest, Leo spoke. “Mike, you should really get some rest now. I’ll send April in to check on you in a minute.”


	21. Chapter 21

The wind blew cold on an early morning. The pre-dawn light crept over the earth, giving off a shallow, pale ambience. Michelangelo shivered. The wound in his chest was beginning to hurt again.

Raphael and Leonardo had brought Donnie out here and dug the grave. It had taken them most of the night, and they’d called for Mike when it was finished. Now, Don’s cold body lay wrapped in sheets, awaiting descent. Without the benefit of a coffin, he was instead laid on a dull wooden plank.

_This isn’t happening._ Michelangelo looked at his two brothers, tired and covered in dirt. Raphael was leaning heavily on his shovel.

Don had passed quietly in the early evening. April had let out the most awful scream, and they all knew. Frantically, she’d been trying CPR when they’d all arrived, but Leonardo just laid his hands gently on her and pulled her away. There wasn’t anything that could be done, Don had just lost the fight in the end.

Master Splinter had opted to say his final goodbyes in privacy, April and Casey had done the same. That left only the remaining brothers standing here, now a clan of three. The mood was more than sorrow. More than a brother, they had lost a fellow warrior. The bond of their clan was broken, a wound that dug even deeper than that of family.

Nothing was said, but tears were on all three faces. All three stood like stone. Wind rustled through the tassels on their facemasks, trailing them through the air. After a few moments of silence, Leonardo and Raphael looked at each other once, and then set about their grim task. Using ropes, they lowered Donatello slowly into his grave. The body had been carefully, lovingly wrapped, covering every inch so that even Don’s face was obscured. Like a true warrior, his bo lay by his side, ready to face the next world alongside him.

Dirt landed on Donatello, a most final assurance of his death. It hadn’t seemed real to him until this moment for some reason. But as his brother’s body slowly disappeared beneath each shovelful, Michelangelo realized right then and there that he would never see him again. Donatello was dead. Forever. _This isn’t happening._

He closed his eyes tight, making it disappear. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, blocking everything away. _This isn’t HAPPENING ..._

But his other senses betrayed him. The smell of fresh earth invaded his nostrils; the heart-wrenching sound of shovel hitting dirt rang in his ears. Even the pain in his chest was getting worse, bringing him back to reality. Unwilling but unable to fight the urge, Michelangelo opened his eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

Instantly he understood, but it didn’t fill him with the relief you’d normally feel after waking from such a nightmare. Instead, Michelangelo was even more terrified, filled with the urge to see his brother with his own eyes.

A dream, just a dream. His mind was racing over the thought; he quietly got out of bed, careful not to disturb the lightly snoring Raphael in the corner chair. Silently, he stole next door to Donatello’s room.

Donatello was there, asleep, breathing. Alive. Still in slight disbelief, Michelangelo approached him and placed a hand on his chest.

The most incredible thing happened then. Donatello opened his eyes sleepily and said, “Mikey.” Mike’s heart leapt in his chest for a second, and then he remembered their first conversation, days before. _Probably thinks we’re still prisoners._

Donatello continued. “Mikey, I can’t believe you’re up!” He smiled huge. “You were in a coma, we didn’t know if you were going to come out of it.” He sat up, wincing. Reaching out his good arm, he hugged his stunned brother.

“Don? Is it, uh … really you?” Hugging him back, Michelangelo couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What do you mean?” Donatello said with a slight laugh, “Who else would I be?” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Memory’s hazy … I think I had a little fever.” He looked again at Michelangelo, thinking: _he shouldn’t be up and walking around yet …_

“Mikey … how long has it been since we came home?”

“Little over a week.” The look on Michelangelo’s face said it all. It hadn’t been a "little fever." “We-we thought you were gonna die, Donnie.” He buried his face in Donatello’s good shoulder, his tears of relief wetting the sheets, the dream still fresh in his mind.

“Hey … hey Mikey, it’s okay. I’m alright now.” He gently pushed Michelangelo off and looked at him. “It’s all over now, I promise.”

Just then, Leonardo walked into the room. Returning to his watch, he nearly dropped the fresh cup of coffee to the floor in amazement. Frozen, he sputtered, “D-Donatello?”

Don smiled. “Hey, Leo.”

“Donnie!” Leo put down the cup sloppily and rushed to his brother, throwing his arms around him.

The commotion woke Raphael in the next room. Groggily, he stumbled in, and soon all three brothers were crowded around the fourth. Reunited at last, their family was finally complete once more.

**\----------------------------------**

It was months before Donatello and Michelangelo were fully healed enough to return to their training, Donatello having the hardest time between the two of them. While Mike eventually healed up good as new, Don required quite a bit of physical therapy to get his shoulder in working condition again. Slowly his strength returned to him, but he always bore a wicked scar as a reminder.

The mental scars were another obstacle, but Master Splinter spent much time in meditation with each of them, helping to ease their transition back into normal life. Though some things about the experience would always remain with them, to their family it was as if nothing had ever changed; Mike and Don were still the same as they ever were. As Mike regained his strength, he began with his usual antics around the lair, and soon the home was filled with the noise and laughter of Michelangelo’s constant pranks once again. The only real noticeable lasting effect on him was the inability to approach him with a needle; much to Donatello’s annoyance, he would never again allow his brother to inject him, no matter the consequences.

Donatello however, had become slightly depressed following his initial recovery. He expressed a fear that his mind may have been altered with the shock treatments; it seemed to him that he was having more trouble formulating thoughts, that his brain felt somewhat fuzzy. But as time would tell, his paranoia proved unwarranted. Soon he was up and going strong again, fixing and installing things around the lair, working on his gadgets and coming up with new ideas just like he ever did. And if he seemed a bit more absent-minded at times, it was impossible for his brothers to tell, as he’d always been that way anyways. On an ordinary day he would spend half the time in his own world, talking about things they didn’t understand, so if he was a little more detached it certainly wasn’t noticeable to anyone else.

Leonardo breathed deep. The sounds of the city came up from below, as he and his brothers perched on the rooftop. It had been about six months now, and with his master’s permission, he had led them topside for training. It was the first outing together as a full group since the attack and he had been skeptical that Donatello was indeed healed enough to return to their rooftop training exercises. After all that had happened, they needed to be ready for anything, and thinking that Don (and even Mike) weren’t at peak performance up here worried him.

Still, his master had felt confident enough in their skills to allow it, and so Leonardo had to honor that. He looked over at the two of them, sitting on the edge of the roof and talking. Mike had been out a few times with him and Raphael, but this was Donatello’s first trip out, so Leo had decided to let them goof around a bit before training began. After so many months cooped up in the dank lair, he guessed it was good for Don to get some fresh air.

Raphael felt impatient, but quelled it. He was eager to get going, his muscles bored with inactivity, but knew that Leo was just giving Donnie a little time to adjust to his surroundings. Don and Mike were sitting together, talking and laughing. It made him feel good. _Was a time I thought I’d never see ‘em like this again,_ he thought. Since their ordeal, Mike and Don had formed a closer bond. It was a good thing, he supposed, but knowing why also made him feel a little sad.

**\----------------------------------**

“So then I was all like, noooooooo …but then I remembered that I just saved my game, so it was cool. Raph so thought he got me, but I didn’t lose anything, really. But he didn’t know that.” Michelangelo gestured wildly, telling the story in his normal overly animated fashion. “So later I loaded up his character and emptied the inventory,” he said, laughing, “I only left two balls.”

“Two balls?” Donatello groaned, but laughed in spite of himself.

“Yeah, they’re like pool balls, right? I just left two of them in there, and hid everything else in a cabinet – all his guns, ammo, whatever … I even took his dude’s clothes all off and everything. So he’s like, running around naked with only these two balls in his inventory.” Mike was cracking up, trying in vain to keep his laughter down as he went on, “So he turns it on and starts freaking out, thinking it’s a glitch at first. I go, ‘what’s wrong?’ and he says, ‘all my shit’s gone.’ I say, ‘evvvverything?'” Michelangelo was struggling to finish. “And he goes, ‘all I gots is my balls.' Dude!” Mike was losing it now.

Donatello joined in the laughter. “Oh, Mikey.” He had to admit, it was pretty funny whenever Raphael fell victim to one of Mike’s ridiculous practical jokes.

When the laughter died down, Donatello said, “Hey, that reminds me, I always meant to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“You remember that day, when Leo and Raph were fighting in the kitchen, and you left that whoopee cushion on Raph’s chair?”

“Ha! How could I forget.” Mike smiled, sighing with satisfaction. “That was a good one.”

“Well, I was thinking about it afterwards, and something didn’t make sense to me.” Don looked puzzled.

“Yeah?”

“How did you ever inflate it without any of us noticing?”

Michelangelo brightened, suddenly looking very proud of himself. “Oh! I planted that little gem a few days before. It was taped to the bottom of the table. Hey, you never know when something like that’s gonna come in handy!”

“Wow.” Donatello was giggling a little. “I’ll bet you were just waiting to break out that one.” He rolled his eyes.

“Dude, you have no idea. It was driving me crazy waiting for the perfect moment to use it. But it was soooo perfect! Did you see Raph’s face? Oh man, so good.” He sighed happily again.

_Hm … gotta remember to watch my step around the lair,_ Donatello thought, _who knows how many more of Mike’s "traps" are set up around the place._ Donatello stretched. _Sure feels good to get out here,_ he thought. Being out of the lair made him feel more alive. He breathed in slowly. Something had been on his mind a lot lately, and it came again to him now.

“Mikey.” Lowering his voice, Don sounded serious now, a sharp contrast to the previous moment’s laughter.

“What’s the matter?”

He just came out with it. “I think Leo and Raph both … I think they blame themselves for what happened to us.”

Mike cocked his head to one side. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that? They’re the ones that came and rescued us.”

“Well … it’s complicated. You know Leo always feels responsible for the safety of us all, so when something goes wrong, he feels guilty regardless of his involvement in the matter.” He went on. “And Raph, well … if you remember, he stormed off after that argument with Leo and that led to our fight with the Foot. So it’s not hard to understand why he feels bad.”

“Yeah, but the Foot were waiting, Leo said. They ambushed him. It wasn’t Raph’s fault.”

“You and I know that, but that’s not how Raph thinks. Try to imagine what you’d feel like in his place.” Donatello looked down. “You know, I know it sounds a little crazy … but in spite of everything that happened in there, I’m almost glad to have been where we were, instead of in their shoes. I just can’t imagine what they must have been going through, all the time we were missing … not to mention the scare we put them through after we came home.”

“Oh yeeaahh. I get it now.” Mike was serious. Suddenly, like flipping a switch, he brightened. “Well, we’re just gonna haveta snap ‘em out of it!” He stood up, turning in the direction of his older brothers.

“Mikey wait -!” Donatello started, but it was too late. Michelangelo was already yelling to the other two turtles.

“Hey you guys!” He waved at them. Raphael and Leonardo started over.

When the two older turtles approached, Mike said, “Hey, so uh, Donnie and I were talkin’,” he said, looking over at Don and back again. “And we just wanna say we’re sorry for dragging you guys into all that stuff. We’re gonna train even harder now, so um, this sorta thing won’t happen again. So you guys don’t haveta feel bad about it, or anything.” He gave them his usual big stupid grin.

Donatello rolled his eyes. _Well, that wasn’t awkward at all …_ “Uh, I think what Mikey’s trying to say is … we’re sorry we worried you guys so much. We’ve vowed never to let our guards down again.”

Leonardo was serious, his face looking somewhat troubled. “You both fought to the best of your abilities. What happened wasn’t either of your faults-”

“It’s mine.” Raphael said, cutting him off. “It’s my dumb ass that got us into the whole mess. Nothin' I can say'll make up for it.” He looked away, ashamed.

“Raph.” Leo did not look at him. Instead he cast his eyes downward. “This isn’t your burden to bear.”

“Nor is it yours.” Donatello interjected, taking a step forward. “Listen, both of you. Mikey and I cannot even fathom holding either of you responsible for what happened. You rescued us from hell and for that … we will forever be grateful.”

“Yeah dude, no doubt. You guys took on the whole Foot Clan. All those guys, plus Karai, and Shredder … just by yourselves! That’s awesome!” Mike grinned even wider.

Leo smiled a bit. “Well … I guess Raph and I do make a pretty formidable team, when we set our minds to it.” His eyes met Raphael’s. Raph looked away quickly, standing still with his arms crossed and looked deep in thought. Leo continued. “You guys are right, I suppose. There’s no sense in beating ourselves up about it now. That said, I would like to discuss some of the mistakes we all made that night though, um, if you guys feel up to it, that is?” He looked a little uncomfortable at the end of his sentence, unwilling to stir up any painful memories for them.

Don thought for a second. “Well, our tactics certainly need an overhaul. I think, Leo, that going in the way we did was executed perfectly, but they already had the upper hand on us before the fight even began. If only there was something that could’ve alerted us to their presence in the area …” He trailed off in his old familiar way, brain buzzing with the thoughts of invention.

“To be honest, I really should’ve smelled ambush,” Leonardo said. “It was so obvious afterwards. Raph even told me so at the time but in my overconfidence, I didn’t take it seriously enough.” His tone dropped, “But that’s never going to happen again.”

“Well, I’ll tell ya one thing,” Mike chimed in. "Next time Raph calls, I’m just gonna go back to sleep.”

“Mikey, be serious for a second-” Donatello began to scold his brother, but he was cut off.

“Stop it.”

They all looked at Raphael. The words were firm, serious. After a pause, Leonardo said, “Raph?”

“Stop it," he repeated.

He turned away from them, unable to look at them. “Just stop talkin’.” He paused, and then went on, “There was only one mistake made that night, an’ it was mine. Leo’s always gettin’ at me for going out on my own, always sayin’ I’m puttin’ the whole family in danger.” His voice was escalating. Suddenly he whipped around and faced Leonardo, startling them all. “Well, you were right. You were right, Leo! I chased after that goddamn Foot soldier, I got myself in trouble, I led us all right into a trap! An’ look what happened.” He shook his head, lowering it. “I didn’t even get the asshole in the end. That bastard did what he did, and got away with it. The Shredder is still out there, alive … gloating!" Grabbing one sai, he tore it across a nearby air conditioning vent with a yell, ripping the metal open.

There was a hand on his shoulder. It was Mike.

“Dude, relax.” For as intense and furious as Raphael looked, Michelangelo was just the opposite – calm, easy, reassuring. “No way is this all your fault. You heard what Leo said, the Foot were trailin’ you forever. So it would’ve happened to one of us sooner or later. You know we all go out alone sometimes, even though we’re not supposed to. I mean, they probably would’ve got Donnie at some point for sure.” He shot a look over at Donatello as he said it and the brainy turtle looked back a bit sheepishly. It was true, they all knew Don snuck out to the junkyard on his own pretty often, against their master’s wishes. If he was in the middle of building something and was missing a part though, you couldn’t stop him from going.

“And,” Mike continued, “Leo said you kicked the Shredder’s ass. _Twice._ That’s awesome.”

Donatello came up beside Mike. “What Mikey said was uh, well – actually a good point.” He looked surprised at himself for saying so. “It’s obvious now that the Foot had been planning such an attack for a while, it really could have been any one of us. That’s why I think I need to devise some kind of early detection system … something that will allow us to pick up on them sooner.”

It was Leonardo’s turn. “Look. You did disobey orders, that’s true. But while it may have been a component in the events leading up to what happened, it was by no means the cause.” Raphael looked hard at his older brother, as he went on. “Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you can join us in regaining our family’s honor.”

“Agreed. You can be sure that I would like to reciprocate some of their ‘hospitality’.” Donatello had never sounded so, well, badass. A shadow passed over his face as he thought back to that moment again, seeing Michelangelo as he had been in captivity. “I believe I will rather enjoy dishing out a little pain of my own.”

“For sure.” Mike was twirling a nunchaku menacingly. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a crack at ol’ Shredder myself.” Grinning maniacally, he glanced down at the scar on his chest briefly. “Figure I owe him one.”

“What I think that we’ve all learned from this,” Leo continued, “is not to underestimate them. The Foot are way more capable than we ever imagined, and now Saki is back in the picture as well.”

Four brothers. All standing tall, facing each other under the moonlight of New York City, the noise and bustle of traffic oblivious to them below. Leo looked around at all of them. Michelangelo, smiling but determined. Donatello, reserved and ready. And Raphael … Raphael still looking uneasy.

Leo spoke again. “We will wage war on the Foot, and they will fall. But in order to do that, we must remain together. We must remain a team. We falter when one cog is loose.” He steadied his gaze on Raphael. “And we cannot falter. The fate of our clan, our family and friends … even the city is at stake.” Leo’s features softened. “Raphael.” Raphael looked at him steady, unflinching. “Raph, we know it was never your intention for any of this to happen. But no one knows better than I do, what you sacrificed to make it right.” Leo reached out and placed a hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “We still need you to make this right. We can’t defeat them without you.”

Raphael sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his head. When he raised it again, he saw his three brothers, all looking at him. They each had the same fire in their eyes. _C’mon Raph,_ the eyes said, _let’s just go get ‘em._

Raphael looked at Leo and spoke. “You're right. I ain’t gonna rest until those bastards get what’s comin’ to ‘em.” He raised one arm, firmly grasping Leo’s outstretched arm. Averting his eyes downwards and lowering his voice, he said solemnly, “Thanks, big brother.”

Leo smiled. Looking around at them all, he said, “I think it’s time we got to training now, don’t you think?” Looking at Mike and Don, a sadistic smile crept over the corner of Leo’s mouth. “We’ve got to whip you two into shape, after all.”

Mike groaned loudly. He’d almost forgotten how strict Leo’s training regimen could be. “Oh man, I knew I should've milked this thing a little longer.” Still grumbling, he fell into formation with the others.

Leo ordered the two younger brothers to take the lead. As he and Raphael took positions at the rear, he turned once more to his brother. He spoke low, so that the others wouldn’t hear. “Raph … you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Raphael just grunted in response. _Guess he’s back to his old self, then,_ Leonardo thought, rolling his eyes. But then Raphael spoke.

“Yeah, I’m a’right. But thanks for the pep talk anyways. Guess you ain’t such a bad leader after all.”

Leonardo smirked. “Whoa, was that a compliment? Wait a minute, I need to be recording this.”

Now Raphael was smiling too. “Huh. Just don’t get used to it.” They both laughed a little at that. The sound of their laughter carried forward, and Mike and Don stole a quick look at each other, both smiling at the sound.

As they leapt gracefully over the rooftops, all four moved as a single entity. Four individuals, one purpose. At long last they were complete, their bond only strengthened now more than ever. When next they fought their most feared enemy, they could only succeed; come one hundred Foot, come one thousand, they would be ready this time.

Bound by the ties of both warrior and brother, the four of them moved as ninja, stealing through the city unnoticed. A secret war raged on behind the shadows of this motion filled city, yet they remained ever vigilant. Together, they fought. Together, they lived.

Together, they stood proud.

**\-----------------End-----------------**


End file.
